


Peaky Blinders: Tommy Shelby Oneshots

by shameless_ramblings



Category: Peaky Blinders
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gore, Imagines, Miscarriage, Peaky Blinders - Freeform, Pregnancy, Smut, Violence, gansters, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-01-09 08:09:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 25,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12272355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shameless_ramblings/pseuds/shameless_ramblings
Summary: A collection of oneshots written by yours truly. Requests are encouraged! Also posted on fanfiction.net and Tumblr. Smut to come





	1. Season 1: Vingette 1

**Warnings: Angst**

**Word Count: 1267**

**About: You and Tommy Shelby were a thing. A big thing. Until he left for France. Watch through a series of snapshots at your life after he returns from the war. Requests are accepted.**

**Edited: Yes**

* * *

 The war had taken him from me. Those bloody French trenches had taken his heart and riddled it with holes until it hung in tatters.

When he left, Tommy had been full of promises for the future. The letters he had sent in the first couple of months, had been full of hope for a quick return. It didn't take long for the words, scribbled on recycled paper in the dark, to become bleak, the flicker of hope fading. The love faded and the frequency of the letters diminished. I told myself that he was busy defending his country, that it was near impossible to get a letter from the front. I refused to believe that he was dead, lying somewhere, unburied, in a foreign country. I watched as neighbour after neighbour emerged from their house, clad in black, weeping over a lost son.

Hope left my heart, but the love for Tommy did not. As I lay alone in bed at night, cradling an old shirt of his, I tried to muster the sound of his voice, or the feel of his breath in my ear as he slept, or even the feel of his hand in mine. Each day it grew more and more difficult.

The letter arrived just before lunch, on nondescript Friday. He was coming home. Soon. Polly's wide eyes glanced up, meeting mine. The hope in them spread to me. For moment, everything in the world was just that bit better, just that bit brighter. The spring in my step returned.

But then he came back. Visibly worn, exhausted both physically and emotionally. It took less than a minute in his presence to realise that my Tommy was gone, lost in the trenches of France. He didn't smile when he saw me. Didn't give more than a nod in my direction to acknowledge my presence. A sick feeling rose in my throat.

He slept in his own bed, that first night. And the second night. And the third. He didn't attempt to visit me. When I went to work each morning, taking extra care to look nice for him, much to the pleasure of Arthur, he didn't even look my way. Each morning when I walked in, he didn't so much as glance my way, barking orders at me without looking up. Polly sent pitying glances towards me each morning, and I hated those looks. I got them from everyone who knew about Tommy and me, who now knew that he couldn't bear to so much as hold my gaze for more than a few seconds.

I didn't even think that he was keeping tabs on me, like he used to. When we had first... gotten together, he had instantly ordered a protection detail on me. It had taken the better part of a year for me to prove to him that I didn't require guards, that I were perfectly capable of protecting myself. That had required some defence lessons from him, which had ended up with a completely different, far more pleasurable, type of wrestling on the bed.

It wasn't until a handsy drunk grabbed me on my way from the Garrison, that I realised Tommy was a lot closer than expected. The drunk, some veteran drinking his pension no doubt, managed to knock my purse from my grip, the small revolver inside rattling against the pavement. The alcohol running through his system made him twice as strong and immune to my elbows and knees. Panic rose in my throat, closing it off.

This is how I die.

Then the Shelby brothers were there, John pulling me away as Tommy and Arthur swung their caps down at the man, the razors slicing his arms. The poor drunk disappeared under two angry Peaky Blinders. Tears ran down my cheeks as I watched. The drunk cried out in pain, snapping me out of my haze.

"Stop it! Tommy! Stop it now!" I screamed. I struggled against John's hold, but he held me firmly. "Arthur! Tommy! Please!"

As if he could suddenly hear me, Tommy turned. His eyes were wide and wild, hair mussed. As if realising their whereabouts, he turned from the drunk, pulling Arthur with him.

"Are you ok?" he demanded. Obviously I took too long to answer because he pulled me from his brother's grip, giving me a slight shake. "Did he hurt you?"

I managed to shake my head. "I'm fine." Rattled, but uninjured.

"John, Arthur, move his somewhere else to sober up. I'm taking her home."

He pulled me roughly with him, his steps too long for me to keep up with in my high heels. Arthur and John sent me another one of the damned pitying looks before reaching for the moaning drunk. The moment Tommy and I turned a corner, he pushed me roughly against the wall, trapping me there with his body. My breath blew out of me in a huff of surprise. Tommy's hands came up to cradle my face, eyes searching for any flicker of pain.

There was a glimmer of something in the blue of his eyes, hidden in shadow. I froze, unsure of what to do. After a moment, he lowered his face to mine and I stiffened. Then he rested his head on my shoulder, nuzzling his face into my neck. It took a moment, but I relaxed, then slowly lifted my arms and wrapped them around his back. He mumbled something into my neck.

"What did you say?" I whispered.

He lifted his face slightly. "I said you smell nice."

My heart sputtered. As if he could hear it, I felt Tommy smile against my neck. There was a band from across the street, and Tommy pulled back, already pushing me behind him. Laughter bubbled out from an open window and a couple stumbled out onto the street.

Tommy pulled back. "I'll take you home." He looked me in the eye for a moment, the longest time he had looked at me in months. Yet again, my heart stopped for a second. His eyes drifted from my eyes, to my lips, then back up again. Tommy's lip quirked as he heard my breath stutter. Then he pulled away from me and begun walking up the street.

The usually short walk seemed to stretch aeons. It seemed to have something to do with the arm Tommy threw causally across my shoulder, when he caught the stares of couple of men across the street. When they realised who my companion was, they quickly looked away.

Tommy paused outside my door. I reluctantly reached for my keys, safely tucked inside my purse. With no small hint of disgust, I realise there was a blood splatter marring the red silk.

"Thank you," I murmured, stepping across my threshold. Tommy was looking over his shoulder, studying the street. Hands were on the doorframe, his body blocking my view of the street. Or perhaps it was the streets view of me. His jaw was clenched, slight stubble breaking across it. Unconsciously, I reached out to stroke a finger across the stiff bristles. Tommy turned his head to look at me again, his eyes unreadable.

"I missed you."

He tensed under my finger, one of his hands reaching up to pull it away from his face. He didn't say anything for a moment.

"I missed you, too." It was barely a whisper.

Then he was gone, striding down the path and onto the street. With a small smile and a swollen heart, I watched him until he disappeared from view. 


	2. Season 1: Vignette 2

**Warnings: Language, Angst, Drinking, Mentions of assault/sexual assault**

**Word Count: 862**

**About: Tommy Shelby and I were a thing. A big thing. Until he left for France. Watch through a series of snapshots at my life after he returns from the war. Requests are accepted.**

**Edited/Beta-ed: No**

* * *

 Tommy Shelby was a gangster.

Tommy Shelby was a monster.

Tommy Shelby cut peoples ears off and tongues out, simply for looking at him wrong.

Tommy Shelby was the devil in disguise.

Tommy Shelby was the love of my life.

It had been two months since the incident with the drunk on the corner. Two months since Tommy had pressed me up against that wall. Two months since he had given me that small, smug smile. Two months of side-eye and heavy stares. But nothing more than glances. 

I sighed, chugging the last of the whiskey in the glass in front of me. I could hear the boys singing in the private booth next to me. They were celebrating another successful day on the tracks with booze.  The door swung open and Tommy emerged. He walked past me without a glance and waved to Grace. She gave him a sly smile, handing him a bottle of rum. I turned away then, heart aching. There was a time when me and Tommy looked at each other like that.

With a sigh, me reached into my purse and drew out a couple of coins.

“It’s on the house,” Grace called, gesturing to the money.

“Tip,” I explained. She smiled gratefully, then walked over to accept the money. “That’s very kind of you.”

I knew that I should just nod, hand her the coin and stumble home to sleep off the buzz. But when did I ever listen to my gut? Especially when it was rolling as much as it was now.

I grabbed her wrist with my free hand as she reached over the counter. “Be careful with him. Tommy. He’s damaged but he’s a good man. And he’s dangerous. The shit he’s done, he gotten himself into, it builds up and at some point it has to explode. And in this business, the shit always heads our way. We’re the weak link in the business, especially when we’re involved with _him_.”

Grace’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t plan on being the weak link. Besides, nothing is happening between us.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t kid yourself, I know that look. Just…be careful.”

Grace moved to protest, then thought better of it. She nodded meekly and I handed over the change. The booth doors swung open again, revealing a slightly dishevelled Tommy. He glanced between Grace and I, then moved forwards, letting the doors swing closed behind him.

She moved off to serve another customer and Tommy made his way towards me, eyebrow raised.

“You shouldn’t be here alone.”

I let out a laugh. “Nobody in this bloody city would touch me, Tommy. I’m your girl. Or at least I was.”

Tommy’s didn’t twitch, a silent answer.

“So, these past couple of months, that was all in my imagination? There is nothing between us anymore?”

“I don’t think that we should do this now. We can talk in the morning, when you’re sober. I’ll walk you home.” He reached for my arm, which I jerked back. His icy eyes turned hard and he took a step towards me.

“Fuck off, Thomas. Just fuck the hell off and stay the fuck away from me.” I strode past him, out of arms reach. I made it two steps before I spun back around. “I am so _fucking_ tired. Of you. Of your shit. Of the pain in my chest every time I see you. I wait for you, Tommy, just like you asked. Do you even remember? Y _ou and me_ , you said, _when I come back I’ll marry you and we’ll run the city together_. Well that went on the first train to fuck all, didn’t it?”

“ _You’re_ tired? What about me? Seeing you, looking so perfect _every_ day. Sitting there like a little lady when all I can think about is the last time we were together. When I could say that you were mine. When I could take you wherever and whenever I wanted.” I swallowed, the mood shifting. Tommy stepped forwards, walking me backwards until my back pressed against, you guessed it, a wall. “I wonder whether you will still make those sounds, if I let myself touch you again. I wonder what my life would be like if I let us be together, to raise a family. But I can’t worry about whether you’ll still be there, with all of your fingers, when I come home at night. I can’t love you, because if I do, then it means they can get to me.” He was panting ever so slightly when he finished, eyes full of fire. He leant his head forward, and I flinched, but he only rested his forehead against mine. “I simply can’t.”

 “You can for her,” I whispered. Tommy didn’t answer. I nodded, then pressed my hands against his shoulders, pushing him away. He stepped back, replacing his cap on his head, pulling it low over his eyes.

“My mother has moved back to London. I think I’m going to visit her for a while.” I swallowed thickly, suddenly, the bag clutched in my hand was very interesting. Tommy watched for moment, then turned and strode away.

“Goodbye, Tommy.”


	3. Season 1: Vignette 3

**Warnings: Slight Angst, Arhthur-Reader fluff**

**Word Count: 589**

**About: Tommy Shelby and I were a thing. A big thing. Until he left for France. Watch through a series of snapshots at my life after he returns from the war. Requests are accepted.**

**Edited/Beta-ed: No**

* * *

 The car slowed to a stop out the front of the Shelby house. I watched with careful eyes for any sign of movement inside the house. Not that there should be any. I had carefully timed my trip so that I arrived in the middle of the night, as to postpone the reunion.

For a moment, I resented Polly and her request for me to return to Birmingham. I knew that they needed, me, that I didn’t really have much of a choice, but with this new Inspector from Belfast and the trouble with Kimble and the tracks, I didn’t have much of a choice. I had to face him sometime.

The driver coughed pointedly and I realised he had been standing with the door open for me. I gave him an apologetic smile before climbing out of the automobile. He handed me my case before he climbed back into the car and drove off without a second glance. 

The front door was unlocked, just as Polly had promised. Anxiety seized me as I swung open the door. The kitchen was empty. The chairs were tucked neatly under the clean table and the embers of a fire spat in the corner. 

Quietly as I could, I made my way through the house and up the stairs. Polly had made sure that the guest room was ready for me. I was to stay for the night, then find lodgings tomorrow, hopefully as far away from this house as possible. I placed my feet carefully, avoiding each creak.

The door to the guest room was ajar, a welcome sight after a long day of travel. With a sigh, I hefted my bag onto the bed. The springs creaked, disrupting the silence. Though it hadn’t been long since I left, I felt distant from this house. The memories, once a normal part of life, hadn’t been touched in months.

Undoing my travel coat, I moved to the window, edging apart the curtains and peering out.

“Welcome home.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Holy fuck! Arthur! Don’t do that!”

Arthur smiled, opening his arms for a hug. I walked forwards, wrapping myself in the smell of smoke and alcohol, more overwhelming than usual.

“Jesus, what happened to you? You look ten years older!” he frowned, running a hand over my cheek, touching where I knew to be dark, exhausted circles.

I batted his hand away. “It’s rude to point out a lady’s flaws, Arthur. I thought you’d be better at that!”

He gave me a lazy smile. “If I was trying to get under your skirts, you would know.”

I let out a laugh. There was a bang, and the door down the hall swung open. A very dishevelled, half naked Tommy appeared. “What the fuck is happening-” He stopped when he caught sight of me.

 “Thomas,” I acknowledged.

His eye’s darted for Arthurs position, arm braced on the door, leaning slightly towards me, then to me, travel coat half unbuttoned.

“Keep it down. Some of us are trying to sleep.”

With that, he stepped back and his door slammed closed. 

Arthur snorted. “It’s been like that since you left.”

I rolled my eyes. “It has nothing to with me.”

Arthur huffed out a laugh. “You tell yourself that, darlin’. Night.” He swaggered back down the hall to his own room. I retreated into my own room, heart pounding. When I had seen Tommy, there was… nothing. No butterflies, no jitters.

I let myself smile. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.


	4. Season 1: Vignette 4

**Warnings: Violence, Assault, Police brutality**

**Word Count: 1668**

**About: Tommy Shelby and I were a thing. A big thing. Until he left for France. Watch through a series of snapshots at my life after he returns from the war. Requests are accepted.**

**Edited/Beta-ed: No**

* * *

 There would come a time where the police wouldn’t be allowed to beat suspects, where they were treated like humans and allowed a solicitor. But now was not that time. The wooden bat come down upon my knuckles and I let out a cry as bones crunched. I fought against the instinct to withdraw them from the table. I was only rewarded with a beat to the back when I did that the first time.

“Tommy Shelby,” the inspector said, moustache twitching.

“Fuck off!” I snarled.

The bat came down upon my arm.

“Tommy Shelby,” he repeated.

 “Fuck off!”

To the shoulder this time.

He hadn’t even asked questions. Just repeated Tommy’s name to me.

“What do you want?” I said, raging at the pleading in my voice.

“From you? Nothing. We want the gun’s he stole. We want to know the location.”

“And why would I know where they are? I haven’t been here for months!”

“Everybody knows that you’re his whore. I don’t know what you were doing in London, but I will find out, I promise you that. Just tell me there the weapons are, so I don’t have to dredge it up.”

Bat to the stomach. I glared at the plod wielding the weapon. From my position below him, I had a clear view up his hairy nose. I had accordingly nicknamed him Nose-Hair.  “I’m gonna rip your eyes out.”

He simply laughed and hit me again. I felt something in my ribs crack as the wind was knocked from me and I fell to the table, gasping. I faintly heard the inspector sigh, and the ploddy stepped back.

“I didn’t want to do this.” Inspector Campbell said, with absolutely no regret in his voice.

I was hauled out of the chair and pushed along, through the station. The man leading me smirked as he passed the other policemen, as if this was some sort walk of pride. Out the back of the station, there was a set of wooden doors set into the neighbouring building. They were angled downwards, similarly to the bomb shelter that was in the corner of my mother’s yard.

Panic rose in me, and I pulled back against the men holding me.

“I don’t know where they are! Please, believe me!” I yanked harder, trying desperately to wriggle free. I knew the depths of hell resided just beyond those wooden doors.

“Shut up, girl, or you’ll get another whack!”

The inspector shushed the plod, who flushed at his admonishment.

 One of the men from inside hurried out, keys jangling from his fingers. He quickly opened the doors, revealing a set of dark, wet stairs. I was pushed forwards, feet caught in the hem of my dress. I slipped down the first couple of steps, but managed to regain my footing before I continued down the rest. The policemen behind me laughed, and a hand shoved my shoulder forwards. I glared at them, focussing my rage on Campbell.  

He raised a hand, gesturing for me to continue on. I managed to take one step before the door I had just come through banged open. My view of the arrival was blocked by the stairs and Inspector Campbell.

“Mr Shelby is at the desk, sir. Say’s you sent for him, that you said she’s allowed to go.”

I tried to hide my smirk at the dear in Nose-Hair’s eyes as he glanced at me.

_That’s right, boys, the Peaky Blinders are here to rescue me._

Inspector Campbell let out a sound that could only be considered a growl. “Which one?”

“What?” the man squeaked.

“Which one,” Campbell gritted, “is at the front desk?”

There was a pause. “All of them are here.” Campbell turned to me, judging my reaction. I smirked. _Oh, you’re in the shit house now, buddy_. His lip curled. I raised an expectant eyebrow at him, before turning back to the officer.

“Inform them that she has taken a fall, and we will bring her out shortly.”

  _Shit._

There was a pause. “Sir?”

Campbell sighed, then shoved my shoulder.  My arms wheeled for a second, then I fell, tumbling down the stone steps.

It took a moment for me to regain my wits. When I did, I saw Campbell standing over me, a look of fake concern on his face.

“My, my. Ladies such as yourself should really take more care when taking the stairs. You could have seriously injured yourself.”

I curled my lip. Thankfully, I wasn’t in much more pain than I had been prior to the ‘accident’. “And what was the point of that?”

Campbell simply offered his hand, slimy smirk still on his lips. I knocked away the hand, and used the wall to balance as I stood. My head throbbed, though whether that was a general headache or induced from the fall, I couldn’t tell. 

I had a clear path up the stair, Nose-Hair sneering at me as I left. I flicked him the finger as I passed. I barely made it through the alley and back into the station. My ribs, now throbbing in agony with each step, made me feel short of breath and light headed.

Nobody stepped to help me. Even when the front desk came into sight, and I saw the faces of the Shelby boys. The policemen at the front desk held up their hands.

 “Sorry, sirs. You cannot come past this point.”

One look from Tommy had them backing off. He strode forwards, reaching me just before I lost all my breath. I heard him curse under his breath, then the world tilted as he bent to scoop me up. Arthur and John parted to let us pass. 

I could see their worried faces over Tommy’s shoulder as they strode from the building. I didn’t look that bad, did I?

I must’ve passed out on the way home because the next time I opened my eyes, I was at home, in my bed. I shifted to sit up, groaning the throbbing in my sides intensified.

“Stay down, girl.” Polly appeared above me. “You’ve cracked-”

 There was a bang and Finn rushed in. Upon seeing that I was awake, he leapt onto the bed. I bit back a yelp of pain as he brushed my side. “Are you ok?” he asked breathlessly.

I forced a smile. “I’ll be just dandy.”

Finn grinned. “You should’ve seen Tommy when he heard that the copper had taken you. I thought he was going to shoot the guy.”

Some small sense of satisfaction rose in me, though I tried to keep it off my face.

“Right, Finn, go get the whisky,” Polly ordered. She closed the door quietly behind him then turned to me. “He’s right. You need to figure out what’s going on with you and Thomas because I have never seen him that distressed.”

I flushed. “There is nothing going on with us. Not anymore.”

Polly studied me for a second. “Sure.”

There was a knock on the door. “Come in,” Polly called.

It swung open, revealing Tommy, the whisky in hand. I was suddenly very self-conscious of the thing nightgown I had on. Wordlessly he handed Polly the bottle. She glanced between us, rolled her eyes, handed me the bottle and strode from the room. The door clicked shut firmly behind her.

Tommy’s lip quirked and he gestured to my torso. “You took a beating.”

I nodded, inspecting my bruised arms. “Something like that.”

He walked forwards, carefully settling himself on the edge of the bed. His eyes were fully of concern, and something a little for fiery. He dropped his eyes to my arm, covered in hand prints and black bruises.

“Tommy,” I reached out my hand, resting it on his thigh. “It’s ok. I’m fine. I’ve taken worse.” 

Tommy lifted his hand, paused, then reached out and threaded his fingers through mine. “I’m going to kill them.”

“No, you’re not,” I said firmly. “Because if you do, they’ll get you for murder and then they’ll come for all of us. Don’t let them get to you.”

“They only took you to goad me.”

I nodded. “Aye, they did.”

 His hand tightened on mine and I could see his features tighten as he frowned. After a moment, he relaxed. I eased back into my pillows. The pain was radiating through my torso more strongly now. I grunted and Tommy’s frown returned.

“Can I see?” he gestured to my torso. I hesitated. “I’ve seen it all before,” he assured.

I blushed again. Why should I be ashamed? He knew my body… intimately. I nodded my consent and he carefully peeled back the covers. He lifted the gown up, careful not to brush against my ribs. I craned my neck to look, worried by the appearance of a frown on his face.

“Jesus,” he murmured. His fingers reached out to brush against the bruises which covered most of my stomach. The blackest ones, obviously where the bat had struck hardest, were focuses on my ribs, right over the thin bone. My arm was nothing compared to this. He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath.

 He looked wrecked. Guilt and rage chased across his face. I knew I was losing him. “Tommy,” I whispered. “I’ve had worse. OK? I’ll be fine in a couple of weeks.”

 A shot of pain lanced through my torso, and I gritted my teeth. Tommy didn’t notice anything. He simply stood, handed me the bottle of whiskey and left the room. I was left lying on the bed, nightgown lifted and sheets too far down to reach. Grunting I swallowed a mouthful of alcohol, then reached down to grab the side of the sheet. Pain shot through me and gritted my teeth, still reaching for the sheet. The moment my fingers touched the white material, I felt a gush of something between my legs. For a horrifying moment, I thought I had wet myself. Then a red stain spread across the white.

I screamed.


	5. Season 1: Vignette 5

**Warnings: Miscarriage, Mention of pregnancy, angst, blood**

**Word Count: 816**

**About: Tommy Shelby and I were a thing. A big thing. Until he left for France. Watch through a series of snapshots at my life after he returns from the war. Requests are accepted.**

**Edited/Beta-ed: No**

* * *

 

 The whole household, except for Tommy, were at my door in a second. Polly was the first to see the blood.  “John! Arthur! Call the doctor. Now!” The boys disappeared and she rushed forwards, flinging the sheet back and checking the blood. Fear crossed her face. “I need to try and relax. The doctor will be here soon.”

She left my side for a moment, shooing Finn from the door. Pain shot through me again and I groaned. Within a second she was back at my side, hand clasping mine.

“Polly,” I whispered, for the first time in a long time properly terrified.

“You’re gonna be fine, I promise.”

More pain. More groaning. The abandoned bottle of whiskey was passed to be and I took a hearty gulp.

“Tommy?” I asked. If he was here then I knew I had no need to worry. Nobody could get past Tommy Shelby. He had just left, surely, he knew something was wrong?

Polly shook her head. “He took the car.”

Cue the tears. I lay back, drinking from the bottle, tears leaking from my face. The pain was getting worse, and I wanted nothing more than to curl up and die, but polly stopped me from moving more than an inch. The doctor, an old English gentleman, was hustled into my room the moment he arrived at the front door. I could see him through my haze of pain, glancing back at John and Arthur, blocking the doorway.

He took one look at me, at the blood spreading from between my legs, before looking at me. “Where is the father?”

“The what?” I cried.

 “The father,” he gestured to my stomach. “Of the baby.”

 I let out a moan, tightening the grip on Polly’s hand.

 “What do you mean,” she snapped.

 The doctor gestured to me, a brief look of disapproval on his face. “She’s in labour.”

I was going to be sick. Polly must’ve caught the look on my face because she dumped out the bowl of water on the bedside table onto the floor and handed it to me a split second before I heaved.

“You are going to have to call a midwife. It’s nearly over.” I think the last part was supposed to comfort me, to let me know that a pregnancy I didn’t know about was almost over. Polly nodded at John, who took off running.

The tears were coming freely now. “Why?” I whimpered.

The doctor pushed his glasses up his nose. “I take it you didn’t know about the child?" 

I shook my head, letting out another whimper. I couldn’t think. Pain, both emotional and physical overtook. Everything in me ached, I felt dirty from the blood and sweat coating my body. I felt like a monster for carrying a life inside me and losing it, not even knowing it existed.

Polly stroked a hand gently through my hair. Another pain came, a contraction, I realised, and my body seized. With a heavy heart, I knew that it was almost over. The pain came fewer between and not as bad. A sob wracked through me. I gasped at the pain it caused in my ribs, but I couldn’t stop. Polly shushed me, leaning forwards and wrapping her arms awkwardly around me. I grabbed onto her and held on. Right now, she felt like the only thing keeping me form floating away.

The doctor left after ensuring that I wouldn’t bleed out. He murmured something to Polly, gave a an over the shoulder look, then thumped out of the room and down the stairs. I think I drifted off, because when I woke, I had been changed, the bed remade with crisp, white sheets and moonlight flooded the floor. There was a gentle snore and I realised there was a head resting on the edge of the bed. Black hair shone in the light, eyelids closed over blue eyes.

“Tommy,” I whispered, reaching my hand to stroke through his hair.

A hand snapped up and caught my wrist, his eyes instantly aware. He softened when he saw me awake.

 “How are you feeling?” The hand gripping mine softened, but didn’t let go. 

“Sore,” I admitted. The rush of feeling from the past day flooding through me, and I turned my head away so Tommy didn’t see the tears.

“Polly said there were complications. Internal bleeding or something.”

  _Thank you._ “Umm, yeah. Something like that.” 

Tommy nodded. “It’s not uncommon after a beating…” Out of the corner of my eye, I was the rage flashed across his face again. “But you’ll be up in no time.”

I didn’t answer. He stood, straightening his jacket. “Get some sleep.” His eyes scanned me one last time, as though I might have some unseen injury that only he could pick up. With a final nod, he walked from the room, closing the door gently behind him.


	6. Season 1 Epilogue

**Warnings: Miscarriage, angst, language**

**Word Count:**

**About: Tommy Shelby and I were a thing. A big thing. Until he left for France. Watch through a series of snapshots at my life after he returns from the war. Requests are accepted.**

**Edited/Beta-ed: No**

* * *

 

Polly hadn’t told him. I knew she hadn’t told him, but I wanted to believe that he knew, that he could see it in my eyes. But he didn’t. It wasn’t until one of the men came in, his pregnant wife bleeding and inconsolable on his arms, wasn’t until I rushed forwards, heart swelling with memory and compassion. Wasn’t until I had sat with her, told her how I dealt with the emotional and physical pain. It wasn’t until the woman, less hysterical now, and her red-eyed husband left that I realised Tommy knew. He had put the pieces together.  Only, I hadn’t realised Tommy until later that evening, when he cornered me in the office, long after the man and his less hysterical wife had left. 

“You did well today.”

 I continued fixing the papers. “Thank you.”

“You seemed to have a deep understanding of her grief.”

“Did I?”

“Yes.”

 “Hmmm.” Completely innocent and nonchalant.

“I mentioned as much to Polly, and she said it was horse shit, that it was pure compassion. But I know you,” I saw him waggle a finger at me, “and that was more than compassion.”

“Is that what you think?” My fingers begun to tremble.

“Yes.” He stood, slamming a fist down onto the desk. I jumped, dropping the papers and leaping backwards. “I want you to tell me the whole fucking story, because I apparently don’t know you as well as I should, and Polly won’t tell me a thing.”

 “It’s none of your business.” I folded my arms across my chest, looking Tommy straight in the eye. The slightest flush of pink spread across his high cheekbones and I knew he was beyond angry.

 “It most fucking certainly is my business,” he exploded. “Was it mine?”

 I flushed. “No, Tommy. It fucking wasn’t.”

 “When?”

I pursed my lips.

“When did it fucking happen!” he yelled.

“After that copper beat me to send a message to you!” Silence. “A spontaneous miscarriage due to trauma, according to the doctor.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was softer, losing its razor-sharp edge.

“Because you were off with Grace, hiding those guns and whatever other business you had with that copper.”

“You should’ve told me.”

“Maybe, but I don’t regret it. Besides, it had nothing to do with you. It wasn’t yours.”

 His eyes hardened again. “Did you love him?”

“I could have. If I hadn’t come back. But I did, and I didn’t get the chance to love him and I lost my firstborn as a consequence. But yes, Tommy, _of course_ it’s your business. My body is your property after all! Oh! Wait! No it most fucking certainly is not! Not since you shacked up with the barmaid and left our _decade_ _long_ relationship in the dust.”

Tommy straightened, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a cigarette. “Aye, I did. Because it wasn’t fair to you to love someone who couldn’t love you.” 

“So, you made the decision for me? You decided that I wasn’t worth fighting for?” Silence from him. he reached into his pocket, and for a moment, I thought he was drawing his gun. He only withdrew his cigarette case and lit one, offering another to me. I shook my head, and continued. “You hurt me, Tommy.” I swallow, trying to take the crackle of tears out of my voice. “You took my heart and shredded it and stomped on it. No, I didn’t tell you about my baby, because I was worried about judgement from you. I was worried that you would put up a wall between us and I couldn’t deal with it, not after something like that. I was hurting and I needed my boyfriend, except my boyfriend didn’t talk to me. My mother wanted nothing to do with me. I was writing to her, before and after I visited her in London. When I told her about the baby, she told me I was no longer her daughter, that I was a slut wearing her child’s face and I deserved the way you were treating me and that I wasn’t fit to be loved. Maybe she was right.” I straightened. “I’m done. I’m done with long speeches about how shitty my life is, about how much I love you. I’m done with the pitying glances everyone sends me when they see you with Grace. I’m done seeing you and knowing that I don’t have you anymore. I’m done feeling inadequate.”

Emotion swelled in me. When had I become this? This sorry excuse for a girl, crying and begging a man who didn’t love her to stay. Whimpering and sobbing when things didn’t go her way and life got too hard. I fell back into my chair, hands rubbing against my temples where a headache was quickly forming. When had I turned into this?

Tommy stood, walked around his desk and knelt by me. “You should have told me. We may not be _together_ , but you’re still family. And under my protection.”

 I nodded. “Fine. But no more. If I want to date, you’ll leave us alone. No family meetings or intimidation. I stay out of your business and you stay out of mine. Deal?”

I offered my hand, and we shook, sealing the deal. He stood again, stepping back so I could stand.

“It will get better.” He said, just as I reached the door. “All of this,” he gestured to the betting shop outside, “it’s not forever.”

I nodded. “I know.”

“It will get better.”

“I know.”

“It won’t hurt like this always.”

I gave him a sad, half smile and closed the door gently behind me.


	7. Season 2: Vignette 1

**Warnings: Pregnancy, Angst, Language**   
**Word Count: 832**   
**About: Tommy Shelby and I were a thing. A big thing. Until he left for France. Watch through a series of snapshots at my life after he returns from the war. Requests are accepted.**   
**Edited/Beta-ed: No**

* * *

 

I couldn’t believe the gall on that boy. Flinging my shoes down the hall, I let out a scream of rage, quickly followed by a heart wrenching sob. He had done it. He had gone and fucked another woman. My hand pressed to my torso and the pain ripped apart my insides. Just below it was a small, but quickly growing bump.

Unable to stand any longer, I dropped to my knees. I knew I must be a sight, crying and kneeling in the middle of the floor, but nobody was home, so I at least had a few moments to myself. I pulled myself up and crawled over to the wall, leaning against it with my knees drawn up into my chest. There was a bang from downstairs, and then Tommy’s voice floated up the stairs.

“Where the fuck are you?”

Rage replaced anger. “Fuck off!”

Quick, heavy footsteps up the stairs. Tommy’s cheek was still red from where I had slapped him. he paused when he saw me, his face softening.

“Fuck off,” I repeated.

“No.”

“Fuck off, Tommy!” Cue a fresh round of tears. Overwhelmed, I pressed my face into the tops of my knees, trying to hide from the world. I thought I’d finally broken through. I thought I’d finally gotten him back, all those months ago.

“Get off the floor.”

I shook my head.

“Get off the floor!” he repeated, louder this time.

Unable to disobey, I hauled myself up. I couldn’t look him in the eye, knowing what a state I must be in.

He grabbed my arm, dragging me to his room, closer than mine. He pushed me roughly down so I was sitting on his bed before he left to shut the door. I wrapped my arms around myself as memories flooded me.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” His quiet ‘don’t-fuck-with-me-voice’ was back.

“You slept with her.” Tommy said nothing and an ironic smile curled my lips. “You know, there was a time when I would have been shocked or disgusted, but now I know she’s just another notch in your bed post. Just like me.” Don’t say it. Don’t say it. I’m gonna say it. “And that night we had those months ago? Hmmm? What about that?” Silence. “Say something, Tommy! Fuck! I feel like I am going crazy. Am I imagining things, or, for a brief moment, did you actually start acknowledging me as a person, instead of an employee? A hindrance to your life? Is that what I am? A hindrance to the business?” Tommy remained infuriatingly silent. Message received. “Alright. I’ll leave then.”

“Don’t you dare leave this room,” he growled.

“So, talk to me! Tell me what I am supposed to do! Am I just a whore, to be used for your pleasure? Am I an employee, just another secretary. Am I a past partner whom you’d rather never see again? Tell me what the fuck I am!”

“I don’t fucking know!” he yelled. I was stunned into silence. “I don’t fucking know what you are!” he continued. “Every time I see you, it hurts. The years we had together were perfect. But France changed me and I’m not the man you fell in love with. Yes, I slept with her. She was innocent and far from this shithole we live in. Far from the complications of you and me, or barmaids or anyone else.”

I nodded. “I don’t know how you do it, Thomas. I really don’t.”

“Do what?” he sighed.

“Break out hearts.”

Silence.

“I don’t think you realise just how much power you possess. First me, then Grace and Lizzy and May. When does your pleasure come second to the lives of those people? Your actions had consequences. You were blinded by Grace, Lizzy would whore herself if you asked, May thinks that she’s bagged you, because a gentlemen wouldn’t fuck her then leave. And I thought I had my whole future with you.” Tommy, still leaning against the door, broke eye contact. “So, I hope that you fuck the hell out of my life. Until you make a decision, you won’t see me. Or our baby.”

He didn’t even flinch.

I nodded. “You knew.”

“You were making phone calls. You never make phone calls. Curly followed you to the clinic.”

“Did he tell you what the phone call was about? No? We’ll it was for the woman in Cardiff. You know the one. The moment I found out, my first thought was; I have to get this done, and when I do, Tommy is going to be relieved. How fucked is that? I put you ahead of my baby! So, fuck you, Thomas Shelby. I am going to raise our baby by myself. Maybe I’ll meet a nice man to marry me. Maybe I’ll end up whoring myself. Either way, you can get fucked.”

I stood, wiping my cheeks. Then, I strode from that room with as much dignity as I could muster.  
 


	8. Season 2: Vignette 2

**Warnings: Language**   
**Word Count: 351**   
**About: Tommy Shelby and I were a thing. A big thing. Until he left for France. Watch through a series of snapshots at my life after he returns from the war. Requests are accepted.**   
**Edited/Beta-ed: No**

* * *

 

Alfie Solomans had you on his side. Had done so for two years. I’d turned up one night, drenched from the rain, baby belly poking out from my dress, asking to speak to the boss. Ollie had refused, but when I mentioned the name ‘Thomas Shelby’ he brought me to the office.

Thumping in with a face like thunder, Alfie expected me to demand an alliance between him and the Peaky Blinders. Instead, I’d asked for a job and protection. He asked me what your connection to the Shelby’s was, and I said it was none of his fucking business. Keep your enemies close, Alfie had thought, so he let me stay. The job was simple, work at the desk in front of his office, keep the books clean and paperwork done. Good wage, paid to a different name, and not a word breathed about me to anyone other than Ollie.

“What about that?” Alfie had said, gesturing to my belly.

“Non-negotiable,” I said firmly. “It won’t impact you.”

And it didn’t. There hadn’t been a word breathed of it since. Alfie liked me, though he mistrusted me at first. But I was hardworking, sharp tongued and took shit from no man. The work was done to an impeccable standard, each shipment of ‘bread’ carefully concealed among a number of expenses and payments. My step didn’t falter once. At least not until Tommy Shelby walked through the doors of the bakery.

“We bake all sorts, ‘ere, yeah,” Alfie said. “We bake the white bread, we bake the brown bread. You want to try some?”

“Alfie?” I called, still around the corner. “This shipment of bottles was fucking expensive. I think they’re ripping us off. Should I send Ollie and John over to-”

Alfie glanced curiously between the two of you.

“Fuck,” I said.

Alfie, thankfully, didn’t miss a beat. “Hey, darl?”

You drew your eyes away from Tommy and turned to Alfie. “Fuck off?” I offered.

“Fuck off,” he confirmed.

I nodded, turned on my heel and strode back through the bakery and out the front door. I needed a drink.


	9. Season 2: Vignette 3

**Warnings: Language**   
**Word Count: 527**   
**About: Tommy Shelby and I were a thing. A big thing. Until he left for France. Watch through a series of snapshots at my life after he returns from the war. Requests are accepted.**   
**Edited/Beta-ed: No**

* * *

 

The fact that Tommy Shelby had followed me back to my apartment, after watching me attempt to drink away my sorrows. He hadn’t tried to approach me, though I could tell he was pissed from the set of his shoulders and the carefully careless face.

He made it all the way up the front stairs before I rounded on him. My emotions rolled inside of me, happiness at seeing him again, the hurt from our parting, anger that we had let it end that way. But seeing him there, looking steady and… real, hands in the pockets of his black overcoat, standing in the foyer of my suburban apartment block, everything leeched from me.

“Tommy,” I said, “what do you want.”

“To know how you came to be working for Alfie fucking Solomans.”

“I needed a job. He had one going. Well, he did when I walked in.”

Tommy swallowed. “I need you back. There is business going down and we need all hands-on deck.”

“No.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, I do. I left. I got out, Tommy. What about the barmaid, Grace? You loved her, I could see it in your eyes. What happened?”

“She left. She lives in America now.”

Oh. “I’m sorry.”

“You were pregnant when you left.”

“Yes.”

“Where’s the baby.”

“Camden Town Cemetery.”

For a moment, a flash of grief cross Tommy’s face.

“Don’t worry,” I continued. “I won’t demand money or anything for the funeral or plot. Alfie pays well.”

Tommy just stared up at me, unwavering.

“How bad is it?”

“Bad.”

“How long?”

“Don’t know.”  
“I have conditions.”

“I thought you might.”

“Do you want to hear them?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. This,” I gestured between us. “This doesn’t happen. We are two friends working together.” No reaction. “You don’t every ask me to take drugs, like Tokyo, or fuck anyone to help you close I business deal. I’m not Lizzie.” I stepped down a step, the distance between Tommy and I getting shorter.

“Fine.” Step.

“You don’t mention the baby to anyone.”

Nod. Step. Two steps left.

“And I get to leave the moment I want to. No asking me to wait until this blows over. I want out, I get out.”

Nod. Step. One step left. I could see the dark blue streaking through his irises, his breath mingling with mine.

“I get a car.”

“No.” He gave me a flicker of a grin.

I faked a pout. “I thought I could get you to agree to everything.”

“You cannot charm every man.”

I laughed. “I can certainly try.”

“Yes,” he admitted. “You can.”

For a moment, we were both quiet and still. Don’t fucking do it. He leant closer. There was a bang and a yell from upstairs. Tommy pulled back, and I stepped onto the next step, putting distance between us.

I swallowed. “I’ll hand in my resignation tomorrow.”

“You do that. I’ll send a car tomorrow afternoon for you.”

I nodded, fiddling with my purse.

“I wouldn’t do it,” Tommy said, already halfway towards the door. “I wouldn’t ask you to come back if it wasn’t necessary.”

I nodded. “Goodnight, Tommy.”

I was coming home.  
 


	10. Season 2: Vignette 4

**Warnings: Gore, Violence, Hostages**

**Word Count: 1315**

**About: Tommy Shelby and I were a thing. A big thing. Until he left for France. Watch through a series of snapshots at my life after he returns from the war. Requests are accepted.**

**Edited/Beta-ed: No**

* * *

 

This was not supposed to happen. Tommy was watching me as I danced and spun around. The best thing about auctions was the dancing. The organisers always paid good money to draw the crowds in with jaunty music to entertain the ladies while the men bet. It was my job to draw the attention of as many buyers as possible, to keep them away from the show ring. Except, it was now Thomas Shelby in my arms, spinning me around in time with the music, a shimmer in his eyes. The men I was supposed to be distraction did not dare to look me in the eye, or anywhere else, for fear of my dancing partner.

 

“Tommy!” I laughed as he dipped me. “You are supposed to be looking at horses! I’m supposed to be distracting!”

 

“You are distracting. My abandonment of you will draw the hoards in. they’ll be fighting for a moment with you.”

 

“No,” I corrected. “They won’t come near me for fear of you!”

 

He gave me the slightest grin. “Maybe I don’t want them near you.”

 

I scoffed. “You’re in a good mood. Had something to drink?”

 

“No, it’s just a good day. We’re going to buy a good horse, I’ve got a pretty girl on my arm and for once my brothers are mostly sober.”

 

I let out a laugh. “We need to do this more often, then.”

 

He smiled down at me and my breath nearly stopped. “Maybe we do.”

 

There was a shout from the other side of the room. Arthur called Tommy’s name again, ignoring the annoyed stares of the other patrons, who clearly didn’t realise who he was.  A waiter came up to him, face set in irritation. Arthur sent him a look and the waiter blanched and pretended to be heading in a different direction. I smiled and gave Tommy and gentle shove.

 

“Go buy me a winner,” I said.

 

He nodded seriously. “You stay here and out of trouble. You armed?” I patted my thigh, where the small revolver was nestled in my stockings.

 

“Aren’t I always?”

 

He left, black coat swishing behind him, razor blades flashing. I shook my head, how much had changed in so little time? A few months ago, I would have been in tears watching him move on with his life like this. But now? I think I was finally letting go, letting him move on with his life, letting me move on with mine. Of course, there was still moment, when the corners of his lips would turn up at me, or he would offer me a drag of his cigarette, I would still feel the ache deep in my heart. Each day, though, it got a little less painful.

 

Michael helped, somewhat. He was new to all this, still with the bright-eyed glint in him that accompanied all young boys. Of course, everyone had been wary of him at first, but soon the strings of family drew them together. Tommy was careful to keep him out of the business, only letting him see the legitimate side. This frustrated Michael, who wanted to be part of it all; gangster part included. I had been in agreeance with Polly on this front, Michael did not need to become another Tommy; emotionally secluded and withdrawn.

 

I managed to down one drink and barely order another when someone grabbed me. A gloved hand wrapped around my neck, cutting off my windpipe enough to choke me but not strangle. I tried to cry out, though no sound came. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw two well-dressed men standing guard, hands in pockets, clearly resting on guns.

 

“Play nice,” the man holding me said, a nasal tone to his voice. Italian accent.

 

I raised my hands in surrender and the grip on me loosened. I gasped in a breath.

 

“What the fuck do you want?”

 

“Nothing from you.”

 

“Tommy won’t give you anything from me.”

 

“We don’t want anything from him. We have a message from Sabini.”

 

“Tell me and I’ll pass it on.”

 

The man let out a harsh laugh but didn’t say anything. Instead, he dragged me out of the bar, down a set of servant’s stairs and through the stables into the rings. Not one person raised a hand or dared to look as I was dragged along. I pulled and tried to twist myself out of his grip, but his only response was to slice the knife along my throat. I refused to flinch at the stinging pain, but my grimace must’ve given my game away. Standing near the entrance of the ring was another man, similarly dressed to my captor. I was yanked to a halt. The newcomer swore when he saw my throat.

 

“Boss said unharmed. He’ll have your balls.”

 

“She fought back, sliced herself. Nothing I could do-“

There was a shout, and a bang. Gunshots echoed, mingling with the sound of fists on flesh. I was yanked forwards, through the doors and into the ring.

 

“Get him off!” Tommy yelled. I glanced over to where Arthur was straddling another man, his fist already bloody.

 

“Everybody fucking stop!” the man holding me yelled.

 

Suddenly noticing me, everyone froze. I saw Tommy eyes slip to the blade at my throat, a thin line of red where it had already sliced.

 

Arthur, completely oblivious, was still punching the Italian, who was nearly a pulp beneath him.

 

“Get him away!” the man holding me commanded. Tommy, Curly and John strode over, yanking Arthur off. The two men guarding me tensed, and I carefully slid my unbound hands to the front of my skirt, gathering the fabric in my hands inch my inch. I think Tommy saw what I was doing, because he pushed Michael behind him just as I turned, slicing my neck further and grabbed the gun tucked in my stockings. I barely remember the next moments as my finger slid over the cool trigger and squeezed. The shot went off and at the same as someone in the corner of my eye shot. There was a blaze of fire along my shoulder, and an explosion of warmth on my stomach. Then I was looking at the green brick wall. I swayed for a moment, then someone moved, I turned, raising the revolver. The Italian in my sight froze, then dropped his gun. I jerked my head towards the door and he ran through it, narrowly missing the bullet I fired next to his head for good measure.

 

Someone swore behind me. Suddenly, the gun was ripped form my hands and my arm was lifted for inspection. I jerked backwards, reaching for my hair pin. Tommy appeared in my field of vision, wide eyed and pale.

 

“You’re good,” he murmured. “It’s just a graze. It’s just a graze.” I wasn’t sure if it was to reassure me or him.

 

“Let’s get out of here,” I muttered, pressing a hand to the wound on my neck.

 

“Michael!” Tommy said. The kid led the way, winding through the stables and out into the open air and towards the car.

 

“Fucking Sabini,” John cursed the moment they were all in the car.

 

“Well,” I said, stuffed between Michael and Tommy in the front seat. “What did you expect? We tried to infiltrate his business. That’s exactly what I would’ve done. Strike at the leader. Sabini isn’t an idiot, he means business.”

 

Michael let out a huff. “But coming after a woman?”

 

I laughed. “If your shocked at that, Michael, you need to leave the country. Women are no longer possession or property, merely a means of communication from one ‘businessman’ to another. Besides, know we know how far Sabini is willing to go.”

 

Tommy eyed me for a second, then turned back to the road. “Either way, a message was sent.”

 

“Aye,” I agreed. “That it was.”


	11. Season 2: Vignette 5

**Warnings: Language, angst**

**Word Count: 630**

**About: Tommy Shelby and I were a thing. A big thing. Until he left for France. Watch through a series of snapshots at my life after he returns from the war. Requests are accepted.**

**Edited/Beta-ed: No**

* * *

 

Grace was back. I swallowed a cry, burying my face further into the horse’s neck. He nickered and shuffled. I wiped the wetness from my eyes and tried to brush away the horsehair, stuck to my face with tears. It had been an accident, I had walked in on them together and quickly ran out the other way. I hadn’t even realised she was in the country, let alone Tommy’s bed I had been over to see him, to ask him why the hell he had disappeared and left our men high and dry at the racetrack, with the body of Inspector Campbell lying in a phone booth.

 

I had arrived to find him and Grace together, and left with my heart on the floor. Of course, after that day at the auction, I knew I wasn’t truly over him. Who could be? Being with Thomas Shelby was like the first proper breath of air. He made you feel alive and wanted and… powerful.

 

I heard footsteps and quickly picked up the brush I had dropped earlier and begun running the brush over the horse’s coat. The figure stopped and lit a cigarette.

 

“Put down the brush.”

 

A fresh round of tears rose, but I refused to let them fall. I shook my head.

 

“Put down the brush.” Tommy’s voice came more forcefully this time.

 

“I can’t,” I whispered.

 

“Put down the bloody brush!”

 

I flinched, but the brush didn’t move. The horse nickered and stamped his feet, luckily not started by raised voices.

 

“If I do,” I said slowly. “Then I’ll have to face you, and I don’t know if I can do that.”

 

There was a moment of silence, then the stall door creaked open. I stiffened when I felt the breath of air on my bare neck. There was the whisper of his coat against my dress and I carefully pressed myself against the horse. Tommy sighed, flicked his cigarette out into the isle, then wound his arms around me. Without much effort, he pulled me back against his chest. I let myself feel the weight of his against my back, his warmth seeping into my back. Automatically my hands lifted to grip I his forearms, though whether to pull him off me or hold him there I wasn’t sure.

 

“How did we come to this?” I whispered.

“I don’t know.”

 

“We had so many good years together.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Do you love her?”

 

Silence.

 

“She’s married.”

 

Silence.

 

“I know she is, Tommy. That’s not what I was asking.”

 

Silence.

 

“I guess this is it for us.”

 

“If you want.”

 

I pulled away from him then, and the horse jumped.

 

“If I _want_? Of course I don’t want it to end! I keep telling myself that I don’t love you anymore, but every time you do that little half smile, or look at me like we have a secret from the rest of the world, or every time you fucking _brush_ my hand, I realised it’s just one big pile of horse shit. Nobody who loves you, Tommy, ever stops loving you!”

 

Tommy watched me for a moment. “I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

 

I nodded. “Do you regret it?”

 

“No.”

 

“Me neither.”

 

“Are you leaving?”

 

“I have to,” I gesture back to the house, where, presumably, Grace was waiting. “I can’t stay here. Maybe it makes me a horrible person, but I can’t watch you be happy with here while I pretend not to care. I’m not that big of a person.”

 

Tommy studied me for a second, holding me in that icy gaze for a moment. Then, in true Tommy fashion, he lit a cigarette, turned and closed the stall door gently behind him. I collapsed into a fit of tears.

 

 


	12. Season 2 Epilogue

**Warnings: Kissing (OMG I KNOW! SCANDALOUS)**

**Word Count: 288**

**About: Tommy Shelby and I were a thing. A big thing. Until he left for France. Watch through a series of snapshots at my life after he returns from the war. Requests are accepted.**

**Edited/Beta-ed: No**

The invite came nearly two years to the day. I had been expecting it, as well, which somehow didn’t alleviate the pain. Instead, when the man currently reading the newspaper next to me, the pillows piled up behind me, unconsciously pulled me closer so I could rest my head against his shoulder, he was the one took away some of the hurt. Some.

 

Of course, he didn’t know that he did. He didn’t know about the invite, or the bride and groom, or my connection to anything Peaky related. He thought that I was a simple girl from a simple family. Nothing special.

 

“Is that a wedding invitation?” I hadn’t realised he was reading over my shoulder.

 

I nodded, handing him the paper. “Aye. Some old friends.”

 

“You don’t sound too happy.”

 

I sighed. “I didn’t leave things on a good note.”

 

“Bride or groom?”

 

“Groom.”

 

He paused. “Are you going to go?” No questions asked.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Would it help if I said I would go with you?”

 

I smiled up at him. “I would do anything to see _you_ in a suit.”

 

He laughed. “Just because I prefer horses to human, doesn’t mean I can’t pull off a suit. Especially when my fiancée,” he leant down, kissing the ring on my left hand,” need’s me to intimidate an old boyfriend or two.”

 

I smiled, and carefully removed the newspaper from his hands. He leant back expectantly as I climbed up to straddle his lap. “Say it again.”

 

He grinned. “Intimidate.”

 

I slapped his chest playfully, laughing. “No! What am I?”

 

He drew it out. “My… fiancée.”

 

“I like the sound of that.”

 

“Me too,” he gave me a boyish grin, and leant up to kiss me.


	13. Season 3: Vignette 1

The man on my arm hesitated as I tugged him into the church. Inside was mayhem. The groom’s side of the church were talking and laughing loudly. Towards the front, John was trying to quiet a crying baby. Ada’s son was sitting on the front of the railing, giggling as Arthur tickled him. The brides side, dotted with red uniforms and prim women, watched in distaste.

Up the front, Tommy was talking with Finn and Polly. To an outside eye he looked unhappy, despite the occasion, but I knew from the upwards curl of his mouth, he was ecstatic. On my arm, Jack adjusted his collar.

“Stop it!” I scolded, leading down the aisle to where we were seated with the Shelby brothers. “You look fine.”

“I am basically meeting your family, darling. First impressions and all that jazz.” He managed a smile for my sake. I patted his arm fondly. When they caught sight of me, Michael, John and Arthur let out hearty roar.

“Look who dragged herself from tea with the queen!” Arthur shouted, grinning. Detaching myself from Jack’s arm I embraced him. Over his shoulder, I noticed Tommy looked at me. I winked at him and his lip curled in the ghost of a smirk.

“Her majesty was not very pleased with me,” I joked. I was pulled down next to John and room was made for Jack next to me.

“How’ve you been?” Arthur asked. Karl reached for me, grinning as only a child could. I took him, carefully settling him in my lap. Try as I might to contain it, the smile on my face was genuine.

“Great. London is wonderful.”

John leant over. “Who’s the tosser?”

I mentally thanked the Lord that Jack was engaged in a conversation with Charlie, who was sitting on the other side of him. “Be nice. Jack. He works in parliament. He harmless, so be nice.”

John let out a laugh. “You, the girl of a respectable man. Who’d guessed?”

I whipped a hand out to smack him, which he easily dodged.

“No fighting.” I turned back to Tommy, readjusting Karl.

“Hi.”

His blue eyes were light and his face relaxed, perhaps the first time since his return from the war.

“Hello,” he said. “Thank you for coming.”

“Oh, it’s no problem.” Tommy just looked at me, leaning carefully against the railing, smile on his lips. For a brief moment, the ruckus around us faded away and it was just us. Those long-lost butterflies reappeared in my stomach, but instead of making me ill, I felt warm. There was a pointed cough from next to us and the moment broke. On my lap, Karl cooed and reached for Jack’s tie.

“Oh, Tommy, this is Jack Henrikson. My fiancée.”

Tommy’s eyes hardened for a moment before he turned to Jack, offering his hand.

“Jack, this is Thomas Shelby.”

They shook firmly, Jack holding perhaps a little too tight onto Tommy’s hand. I saw the corner of Tommy’s mouth flicker in amusement and I tried to supress a grin. There was a cough from the vicar and Tommy excused himself. With a final smirk at me, he returned to his place at the altar.

After a minute, Grace entered, the sound of the choir boys filling the church. She looked a vision in purple, the lace veil carefully hiding her face. I would be lying if I didn’t feel some resentment towards her. But I was here for Tommy, for the family. It was no longer my place to resent his affections.

* * *

The service was beautiful, the photo quick and the reception merry. The house had taken my breath away when I had first seen it. Multiple stories, sprawling gardens, with stables and yards. It looked like a palace.

Jack whistled. “You said he is in the automobile business?”

“Among other things.”

“Maybe I should consider a career change.”

I hadn’t lied to Jack, per se. I had simply withheld truths from him, purely for his protection. Of course.

By the time the party was in full swing, the two families had nearly given up the pretence of unity. Grace’s family was in one room, full of clipped laughter and small glasses of sherry. As I walked past, some of the men looked up before quickly glancing away. They looked like mice in a snake’s nest.

The Shelby family and friends were a little livelier. The band played lively music and people danced and laughed without restraint. I noticed Arthur and John sneak a bottle of champagne off the table and sneak through a door the back of the room. Family meeting.

I patted Jack’s arm, pointing out Polly and Ada standing over the punch. He lead me over, intent on introducing himself.

Ada’s face broke out into a smile when she caught sight of me.

“Ada!” I exclaimed. “How are you?”

She grinned. “Good. You don’t look too bad yourself.” She nodded towards Jack. He awkwardly offered Polly his hand.

I giggled. “I know! I’m to be a married woman.”

She gasped. “Let me see!” she squealed. I looked around conspiratorially and slipped off my left glove. Under it, on my ring finger, sat a small gold band, set with a small diamond. Understated and elegant.

“Oh,” she sighed, studying my hand. “It’s so beautiful.”

I nodded. “It is. The man isn’t too bad either.” I suddenly noticed Polly had lead jack over to the drinks table, where he stood with a glass of whiskey in his hand. One thing Jack had never done was drink. Even if I had a glass or two, he only had water or juice. He said it was a personal preference.

Ada laughed, jolting me back to the present. “You seem happier.”

I smiled. “I am. London suits me.”

Ada let out a snort. “It most certainly does! Less than a month there and you had men falling over you.”

“I wouldn’t say that! I let them court me first, like a proper lady.”

She sighed. “You sound old. We’re both old. Look at us, me widowed, you to be married. What happened to the girl who broke Arthur’s nose when she was nine? I still feel like a child.”

I laughed. “You’ve had a child, Ada. I still find it hard to believe!”

A hand wound around my waist as Jack came to stand next to me. I could already smell the alcohol on his breath and a flutter of worry flew through me, but I forced myself to smile up at him before turning back to Ada. “Ada, this is Jack. Jack, this is Ada Shelby, Tommy’s sister.”

They shook hands. Jack opened his mouth to say something but the music quietened.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the butler called. “Dinner is served in the dining room.” He gestured through the door and we began to file out. Ten minutes after we were all seated, Grace’s family somewhat stiffly on the other side of the table, Tommy still hadn’t appeared. Neither had Grace. I raised an eyebrow at Ada who rolled her eyes.

I heard Arthur scrape back his chair and stalk off down the hall and up the stairs. Ada and I glanced at each other before bursting into laughter. There was an uncomfortable silence in the dining room, each side unsure of how to interact. That was until one of Grace’s cousins spoke up.

“It’s a lovely house,” he managed, blushing at the attention.

There were murmurs of agreement.

“I saw the stables earlier,” a cousin’s wife said. “They’re beautiful. Lovely horses as well.”  
There was another murmur, then the aunt across from me said, “So you grew up with the Shelby’s?”

It took me a second to realise that she meant me.

“Uh, yes. I did. The gypsy camp was next to my cousin’s farm.” Someone down the table snorted. “Something the matter, Billy?” I asked.

The offender turned red. “No, the, uh, whiskey went down the wrong way.”

I smoothed the tablecloth in front of me. “Aye, you really must be more careful. It really is very easy to choke to death.”

Jack tensed beside me and a deathly silence fell across the table. Thankfully, Arthur returned, announcing that Grace and Tommy were just with Charles. Sure. They would be down in a moment. Grace entered first, sliding into her seat at the head of the table. Tommy entered soon after, eyeing the rooms occupants. His eyes landed on me and an eyebrow raised. I smiled innocently. Jack swallowed loudly next to me.

Slowly, the conversation returned. I saw Polly avoid my eye, but glance repeatedly at two men sitting on Grace’s side of the table. Interesting.

* * *

Tommy was conducting business on his wedding day. I saw Grace’s face tighten when he slipped from the room and instantly knew. Taking advantage of Jack’s preoccupation with the bride’s uncle, I went over to her, looping my arm through hers.

I could tell she was worried by the way she leant on me slightly as I lead us into a quiet corner of the room.

“It’ll be ok,” I told her. “He’ll deal with it.”

“I know,” she murmured. “I just wish it wasn’t now.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

She paused, as if she wasn’t ready to return to the party. We lingered on the outskirts, watching the dancers twirl on the floor. I noticed Michael with a beautiful young lady in his arms, and another glancing at them jealously across the room.

Grace coughed delicately. “Tommy told me about your history.”

I froze. “I beg your pardon?”

Flushing delicately, Grace elaborated. “He told me that you were sweethearts before the war. He told me everything. I just wanted you to know, so you don’t have to hide anything from me. The Shelby’s were your family first, and I don’t want to drive you apart.”

“I-,” I stuttered. “I hope you don’t think badly of me, being here today.”

Grace laughed. “Of course not! I sent the invite, did I not? I wanted you to be here.”

“You aren’t worried about me stealing him into the night,” I smiled to lighten the mood, not that Grace seemed to care.

“As horrible as it is, if Tommy chose to be with you, I would let him. He’s given up everything for his family, so if he wants to choose who he loved, he has my, and I assume your, permission.”

I nodded, raising the glass in my hand. “To the woman he chose, may your marriage be long and happy.”

She smiled, raising her glass and we clinked. After taking a small sip, Grace took a deep breath. “Anyway, you looked beautiful.”

I nodded graciously. “Thank you, though it is about to be ruined. I hear there is a race happening after the dance. I believe Arthur had requested my participation.”

Grace smiled. “I did hear Arthur and John betting on you winning. Give my family a fighting chance.”

I smirked. “I shall certainly try.”

She was pulled away from me by a cousin and lead somewhere through the crowd. Content for the moment to stand in the corner, I watched everyone milling around. Every now and then a snippet of conversation drifted towards me. Though the tensions between families was easing, the words ‘gypsy bastards’ still floated through conversations.

“I’m surprised you came.”

Tommy appeared in my field of vision.

I shrugged. “How could I not? A gypsy wedding is always worth it. Especially for the booze.” I gestured to the drinks table, currently with multiple clusters of both military and Shelby men gathered around it.

He hummed. “I hear Arthur has recruited you for the race.”

I smiled. “Your wife has instructed me to allow the cavalry a fighting chance. Their ego’s need the boost.”

Tommy Shelby didn’t laugh. He barely smiled, but right now, in the midst of whatever was going on behind the scenes, he let out one of the rare smiles. “Aye, it wouldn’t be a good idea for me to piss off the in-laws.”

From across the room, I saw Jack, still talking with the uncle that had walked Grace down the aisle. He turned to me briefly, smiling, before returning to the conversation.

“Jack seems like a good man.”

I nodded. “He is. A good man.”

“Not someone I thought you’d end up with.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Grace told me, about how you’re a proper lady now. Living in the city, having brunches, fundraising for the poor children.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No. It’s just not what I thought you wanted. You always said you hated the city.”

“I did. But people change. I needed a changed. But look at you. A respectable, married man with a son. You’re living the dream, Tommy. Congratulations.”

His eyes didn’t leave mine. “How much does he know?”

“About what?”

“You know.”

“Nothing.”

“You don’t think he deserves to know?”

“I think there is nothing for him to worry about. In two days, we are going to back to London. I’ll go back and live in the house with thirty more maids than we need, make brunch and run fundraisers for the poor children. I’ll marry him and maybe someday, if we want children, I’ll get the treatments Grace was having, and I’ll have a little blonde-haired baby who will look nothing like me. And I’ll try to forget about how the love of my life is living his dream with my best friend and their son. maybe one day that won’t hurt, but for now, this is all I can do. So, congratulations, Tommy. I am happy that you found your peace.” There was a whistle from outside the window. “The race is beginning. Shall I see you down there?”

I didn’t wait for an answer before I slipped past him and out the door.


	14. Season 3: Vignette 2

Jack was already in bed. He watched over his newspaper as I came in. I knew I was portably smiling like an idiot, Ada’s sense of humour hadn’t changed in all these years. Jack watched as I stripped off my muddy dress and shoes, rolling down my torn stockings. The race had been fairly tame, compared to some of the others that had taken place between the Shelby brothers or the gypsies. The cavalry had been shocked at the way we rode, constantly kicking and hitting each other, trying to knock them off their horses. It took a couple of laps, but eventually the cavalry joined the party and we were all drinking and laughing. That is, until I beat them all to kingdom come in a steeple chase. The only person who had come remotely close to beating me was Finn, who had been on my horse’s heels for most of the race. Quite a rider, that young boy turned out to be. Of course, in true Shelby fashion, he had been less than pleased at being beaten by me.

I let out a little sound of amusement. Jack sighed form the bed behind me. I frowned at his reflection as I sat at the vanity situated near the window. Outside I could hear the men laughing and cheering as a cavalry officer and John threw punches. I could feel Jack’s gaze burning a hole through the back of my head. I ignored him and focussed on removing my jewellery.

There was a gunshot outside and I saw Jack flinch. I smiled to myself, suddenly aware at how used to the sound I was. It was so familiar, even the sounds of punches and grunts of effort as another boxing round took place below my window. The horses were being led back to the stable, and in particular quiet moment, I could hear them calling out in the fields.

There was the sound of folding paper, and a thud as it was dropped onto the floor. “Do you love him?”

I blinked, my gaze snapping to Jack’s reflection. He was staring at me intently. “Excuse me?”

“Thomas. Do you love him?”

My heart pounded in my chest. “Why would you even think that?”

“The way you looked at him,” he said quietly. “I’ve seen it before.” The look on his face… it tore at my heart. “I wanted to know,” he continued. “Before we got married. Because you said yes to me, yet the look on your face when he was talking to you.” He swallowed thickly and looked away. I felt sick, the self-hate taking drowning the happiness of the nights events.

I was supposed to marry this man, yet here I was, heart pounding at the memory of the cosy exchange Tommy and I had had earlier this evening.

Jack tipped his head back against the headboard. “He was the thing that you never talk about.”

“Yes,” I whispered. Jack didn’t react, so I repeated it a bit louder. “Yes.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to move past him now? He’s obviously moved on from you.”

Shock hit me like a fist in the gut. “Pardon?”

“He married someone else, didn’t he?” Jack still was gazing at the ceiling. I stared at his reflection, unable to move.

Unbidden, tears rose to my eyes. “I guess.”

“So now you can marry me, and never think of him again.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why the hell not!” Suddenly, Jack was standing next to the bed, cheeks turning an unsightly shade of red. In a few strides, he was gripping the back of my neck and dragging me backwards off the stool. “He doesn’t love you like I do!” He yelled.

I screamed as his second hand wrapped my hair around his fist and pulled. The smell of alcohol overtook me and I gagged.

“You’ve been drinking,” I pleaded. “I’ll stay next door for the night, and we’ll talking in the morning.”

Jack growled. “I won’t give you an opportunity to go a see him. You were probably planning a rendezvous with him, weren’t you, you little slut?”

I whimpered again as his fist pulled backwards. My scalp was burning and my legs kicked out uselessly. The stool knocked into the vanity table and several perfume bottles fell to the floor. I suddenly realised why Jack had refused to drink in the time we had been together.

I couldn’t think; the burning sensation in my scalp was getting worse and the smell of alcohol was filling my head. I couldn’t think. So, I screamed.

I only managed a few seconds before Jack tugged my head again. But those few seconds was enough. The door banged open and the peaky blinders rushed in, in various stages of undress. Tommy was first, shirt untucked and unbuttoned, pants creased. Arthur was completely shirtless and John’s pants were unzipped. I wanted to laugh; my boys here to save me again.

I can’t remember what happened next, because Jack dropped my hair and my head fell to the floor with a thump. The ringing in my ears became my world and I vaguely noticed the three boys attacking my fiancée. I was all I could do to drag myself out of the way and under the vanity before the blood started flying.

I curled up in a ball, hands over my ears. The shock was beginning to set in, and tears ran down my cheeks. Two hands followed the track of my tears and I flinched, arching away from the touch.

“You’re ok,” Tommy whispered.

He wrapped his arms around me and I wiggled out from under the table. I was carefully helped to my feet, and I tested my legs for any injuries.

Jack was on the floor, lying still.

I nodded towards with him. “Is he dead?”

“No.”

“We can finish him,” John offered.

I shook my head. “Leave him. But put him outside with the horses.”

The boys grinned.

“We have just the spot,” Arthur laughed.

Tommy lead me from the rooms, to where Grace was waiting on the landing. She had a silk robe wrapped around her small frame. I gave her a small smile.

“I’m sorry,” I said sheepishly.

“Please, no apologies,” she said, giving me a gentle smile. “Mary has set up the spare room for you. Unfortunately, it’s next to Charlie’s room, but he shouldn’t cry tonight.”

“Thank you,” I murmured.

She pulled me for an uncomfortable hug. Any ill will I harboured towards her disappeared momentarily as she embraced me. All too soon she pulled back and we stepped away from each other. I saw Tommy standing behind her, watching me. I flushed and ducked my head. Something pulled in my neck and I yelped, rubbing the spot with my fingers. I suddenly realised how achy I was, now that the alcohol was wearing off.

Grace stepped aside, letting Tommy wrap his arms around me and walk me away.

* * *

 **Grace**  
I saw that. That little flicker in his eyes. We had been in bed, talking about Charlie, when we had heard the screaming. Instantly, Tommy had been out of bed, tugging his shirt on. I had been seconds behind him through the door. Arthur and John were already out in the hall, running towards the scream. I had been shoved back before I could see inside, but from the sound’s, I knew what was happening.

And when they had emerged, the boys bloodied and sweaty, the poor woman tucked into Tommy’s side. When I had embraced, I watched as Tommy shifted, then moved to stand behind me. The whole time, he hadn’t taken his eyes off her. It hurt, but I knew that if Tommy had truly wanted her, he wouldn’t have married me. He didn’t love her anymore, he loved me.

So why did I feel like I was the intruder in this house?


	15. Season 3: Vignette 3

Tommy was out camping, again. Charles whimpered, his small body squirming in the bed next to me. I reached a hand over, resting it on his little chest, calming him. Tilting my head, I looked out my window again, every so often I would see the flicker of a flame on the hill. Sighing, I closed my eyes trying to sleep, but was greeted only with the image of a coffin and a hole in the ground.

* * *

It had become a routine for us. I would mind Charlie, comforting him and Tommy would take Grace’s horse to the hill, light a fire and sleep out for the night. At the break of dawn, he would return, take Charlie from my bed, and hide in his office for the day, at which point I would take one of the horses out for a ride.

It worked for us; Charlie was cared for, Tommy was able to grieve alone and I didn’t have to see him. I didn’t want to see him. I couldn’t look him in the eye, knowing that my friend, the woman he loved, had died and left us trapped together in this house. I wanted to comfort him, but I knew that it would cross a line I didn’t think I was prepared to cross. Being that emotionally available to him, allowing us to grow closer, to breach the gap that had been ripped between us all those years ago. I knew I would fall into that hole that I had so carefully tried to pull myself out of. I knew I would fall, and this time I wouldn’t be able to come back.

The mare I had chosen today was a heavy, grey. Built for strength, not speed, she had a kind eye and sweet temperament. When animals darted out from undergrowth, racing across our path, she did not start. She was young, still to be broken to harness, but the muscles in her hindquarters were promising. I heard a yell, and the crackle of wheels on gravel.

“Tommy!” someone yelled. I frowned, gathering my reins and nudging the mare forwards. I broke through the trees and nudged the mare into a canter. Around the side of the house, the Shelby household, excluding the maids, was gather on the front drive, visibly distressed. Noticing me, Finn pointed to the road, where a wagon was making its way slowly around the corner. Without hesitation, I clicked my tongue and the mare took off at a gallop, knowing that the mare could easily outrun the wagon, I followed the drive instead of jumping over the fence. It would save the horse’s joints and her energy.

“Tommy!” I called.

Johnny turned around, peering over the side of the cart. His eyes widened at the sight of me. He disappeared over the side, and the cart begun to slow. I trotted around to the front of the cart, making sure I was in front of Tommy’s horse so he couldn’t take off.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I said. Charlie cracked a smile at me, and waved his chubby arms in my direction. I supressed a grin.

“Holiday.” Tommy clicked his tongue and his horse moved forwards, forcing my mare to leap out the way. She snapped at the black Thoroughbred, and I yanked her head back. Scowling I turned her around and rode alongside the cart, speeding up into a trot.

“What about the family?”

“We’ll only be gone a few days. Arthur and John are big boys, they can run things for a while.”

“Tommy. Fucking stop the wagon and tell me where we’re going.”  
“There is no we.”

“Johnny, where the fuck are you going?”

“I don’t know, Miss. He won’t tell me.”

“Go home,” Tommy said, clicking his tongue. Next to him, Charles cooed.

“No.”

“Well, shut up then.”

“What?”

“If you’re going to follow, I want quiet.”

So, I stayed quiet. I quickly worked out which direction we were travelling in. “We’re going to Wales?”

“Aye.”

To visit the gypsies. Now, what business would Tommy have with the gypsies?

* * *

 **Tommy**  
She could still ride better than any of us. Her skirts were hiked up around her thighs, and I could see her claves wrapped around the torso of her horse, holding firmly as she cantered ahead. She looked so relaxed and peaceful as she rode, and I was reminded of the young girl on the runaway horse roaming the streets of Birmingham. She had become even more beautiful than she had been then. The wagon bumped over another pothole and I grimaced as it jolted Charlie awake in my arms. He had been sleeping peacefully, exhausted from the day’s events, but now he was awake and screaming. Hearing his cries, she slowed down the horse, turning the mare around and walking back to the wagon.

Charlie reached his chubby arms for her, and smile that brightened her face broke my heart.

“Can I?” she asked me, gesturing to Charlie.

I nodded. “Careful.”

She gave me one of those sly grins I liked to think she saved only for me. “Always.”

She leant down carefully, her horse standing still beneath her. She grabbed Charlie and carefully settled him in front of her. He giggled and grabbed handfuls of snowy white mane. Carefully they moved off, at a slow walk. The party continued on, with both Johnny Dogs and Tommy watching the pair on the white horse.

“She’s a looker, that’s for sure.” Johnny commented. The look I sent him melted lesser men. “The horse I mean,” he elaborated.

I turned back to the road, ignoring the look Johnny sent me. “She’ll make a good broodmare.”

There was a giggle as Charlie reached for an overhanging branch, showering the both of them and the horse in droplets of water from the leaves.

“Aye,” I said quietly. “She would.”


	16. Season 3: Vignette 4

I heard the gunshot. I saw the shooter taken down before Grace could even fall to the floor. I heard Tommy scream. In a second my skirt was fisted in my hands and I was sprinting over to Grace’s body. She was still breathing, but barely. The wound was spurting blood. With no small amount of horror, I realised that the bullet had torn through an artery. The pool of blood was spreading, and my dress squelched as I shifted my weight on my knees.

I pressed my hands to the open wound as Tommy ripped off his jacket and placed it over my hands. We worked as quickly as we could, trying to stop the bleeding. Grace blinked up at Tommy, then stopped breathing. She relaxed and the blood eased, turning from a gush to a dribble. Somewhere in the room, a woman sobbed loudly.

Tommy looked down at his wife, her body still and prone on the floor. I watched as his eyes closed and a flash of pain crossed his face. I felt like I was being sucked into that pit with him as his happiness faded in his arms.

* * *

 **Finn**  
Tommy was at the funeral. He spoke beautifully, as always, if a little woodenly. His words drew tears from each and every woman there. Except one. She stood at the back, little Charlie in her arms. She did not sob, like Grace’s aunts on the other side of the grave. She did not weep, like the grandmothers and old friends of the Burgess’s. She stood guard over Charlie, her hair glowing like gold in the early light. The boy in her arms squalled when the coffin was lowered into the ground, as if he could sense the finality of the moment.

Tommy ignored the outstretched hands and made a line directly towards his son and carer. The faces on Grace’s relatives as he strode past them and to his son… Finn had to supress a smile.

The woman, once a girl he had grown up with, now handed Tommy his child, then carefully slipped away. His brother didn’t try to stop her.

Finn frowned, then turned back to where the family was milling around. What a ride it had been. Never would he have imagined that he would be standing over the grave of Tommy’s wife. Well, he never imagined it would be Grace, or any other woman apart from the one who quietly mounted the large bay and clopped away.

When Tommy had first bought her home, him all red faced but smiling, her windblown and laughing, Finn thought he finally had a figure he could look to as mother. And he had, for nearly ten years. Yet, when his brothers had returned from the war, shadowy and haunted, Finn knew that everything would not be like the fairy tale’s his mother and Aunt would tell him as a boy. He had seen Tommy push away the only woman who could see past his shit, and he had turned his back on everything they were. Finn hated his brother for that; for turning the beautiful laughing princess into a sad servant. That was what she had become, a grim servant, waiting on him, listening for his ringing bell.

She kept coming back; that was what Finn didn’t understand. His family, and their businesses, legitimate or not, were a cancer on her heart. She watched silently as they had torn up everything they were and sold their souls to the devil. She had tried her best to keep him safe, he knew and appreciated it, but with a name like Shelby, he was bound to get dragged into it at some point.

There had only been one moment of weakness for her. It was meant to be private, Finn knew, but he had stumbled across her lying on her floor, drunk on Irish whiskey. In her hands were a pair of knitted baby booties. Finn had asked about them, thinking perhaps they were a sibling’s, who hadn’t made it through childhood. The influenza had been rampant in the area where her mother lived, and Finn knew she worried constantly. But when one of the strongest women her knew burst into tears, stammering about her two babies, one killed by a beating, the other a natural miscarriage, Finn knew. He knew why Polly had kept the men away from the guest room after the incident with Campbell. Finn also knew why, a few months after she left, a letter came. A letter that had made Polly strike Tommy so hard he had a handprint on his face for the better part of a week.

Finn knew that she still loved Tommy. And Finn also knew that Tommy loved her. Whether Tommy realised it or not, it was true. Nobody else was allowed to take Charlie, or help tidy the master bedroom, or ride the horses around as she did. There was no doubt that Tommy loved Grace, none at all, but Tommy also loved her. And when the pain from Grace’s death faded from his mind, Finn only hoped that he would have the common sense to realise that the girl from his boyhood still loved him, and he, her.


	17. Season 3: Vignette 5

Something had changed. When Michael had returned with us to the house, a disturbingly distressed Tommy waiting outside, I had felt. Something in the way he held Charles and I close to his chest during that first embrace. Something in his eyes when he checked us for injuries. Something in the way he held us that night, all together in his bed in the master’s bedroom.

The next day, it was still there. It was as if Tommy couldn’t bear to take his eyes off us. Even when we went out riding the next day, Tommy refused to let me out of his sight for more than a few moments. It was bearable for the first few days, but finally, when the feel of his eyes on me as I lay on the kitchen floor playing with Charles got too much, I snapped.

“What?” I said sharply.

“Nothing. I have to go out today, I would like you and Charles-”

I frowned down at Charlies. “Daddy is being silly, isn’t he? He won’t let us out of his sight. Daddy needs to tell us why because I’m getting annoyed, aren’t I Charlie boy?”

I heard Tommy sigh behind me and my frown changed to a grin as Charlies coped his father. Charlie yawned and I realised it was nearly his nap time. It was my turn to huff as I heaved my stiff body off the floor. The priest had taken some liberties with my treatment and I still bore the bruises.

I felt the increasingly annoying gaze on me as I hefted Charlie from the floor and begun the long journey to the toddler’s bedroom. Tommy followed silently behind me but I pointedly ignored him, choosing instead to talk to Charlie. The baby giggled and tugged on my hair as we climbed the stairs, eventually choosing to rest his head on my shoulder. I smiled down at him, wrapping him more securely in my arms. I couldn’t help but be envious of Tommy.

Charlie went down quickly and quietly as he usually did, though I still chose to linger for a few moments longer. I could feel that infuriating prickle on the back of my neck the whole time. Tommy, watching from the door was either oblivious to my irritation or choosing to ignore it completely.

“What?” I whisper-snapped. When Tommy didn’t answer, I strode from the room, yanking Tommy by his jacket lapels so I could close the door gently behind us. Out in the hall, a maid exited a room, saw us and darted like a started rabbit down the stairs.

“You’re very good with Charlie,” Tommy noted.

“Is that an issue?”

“I don’t know.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, until you work it out, stop fucking staring at me.” I turned from him and made it halfway down the hall before he called out.

“When I heard you were engaged, I hated you.” I stopped walking but didn’t turn. He continued, “I hated the fact that you had moved on, like you said you would. I hated that another man could touch you, have you in the way in which I used to. I was filled with this blinding rage and I was planning to go to London and steal you back. Arthur and John were ready to help me as well. But Polly, she caught wind of what we were planning and she stopped me. She said ‘Thomas, if you go down and ruin that girl’s happiness, I’ll castrate you like a horse. She’s given it all up for you, and it’s her turn to be happy now.’” I heard him swallow. “And when you walked into that church, smiling and happy, I got this pain in my chest and I couldn’t believe it. But then you smiled up at him and I thought she’s done it, she’s moved on and she’s happy and I told myself that I wouldn’t ruin you again.”

The tears gathered in my eyes blurred my vision, but as I turned, I could still see Tommy there, unlit cigarette in hand. As I watched, he lit a match with a trembling hand. Tommy’s hand never trembles.

“And then Grace died,” he said, “and you helped with the family, and Charles, and running the household. You never questioned me, merely went about business. And each time I saw you smile, or play with Charlie, or ride on of those bloody plough horses you insist on riding,” I let out a choked laugh and he smiled. “Each time I saw you it made the hurt a little better, stopped my heartbreaking a little more.” A tear slipped down my cheek. “So, thank you,” he took a step towards me. And another. And another. He kept walking until he was right in front of me. In very not-Tommy fashion, he gently placed a finger under my chin and tilted my head to look at him. “I love you,” he whispered.

My heart stuttered and I gaped at him. “What?”

“I love you,” he repeated.

“But,” I stammered. “You can’t!”

Tommy frowned. “Why not?”

“Because if you do, it means that there is a chance for us and if there is a chance, I want to take it.” Tommy’s eyes held a silent question. “If we take this chance, I have to trust you, Tommy, and every time I did in the past I got hurt. You hurt me, Tommy. And you ignored me, shunned me, for years. Yet, every time you called I came running back, regardless of whether I wanted to or not. Maybe I should have said no to you, and that’s on me, but I still got hurt, Tommy.”

His hand dropped and he stepped back.

“But,” I continued. “If you promise me one thing, I’ll give this a go. Promise me no more secrets. I need to know what is happening, I need to know if Charlie or I are in danger, I need to know if you have doubts or fears. Promise me that and-”

I didn’t get the rest of my sentence out. Tommy was already leaning down, pressing his lips to mine and forcing me backwards against a wall. It was like fireworks went off inside me. A feeling I hadn’t felt in a great many years over took me and I groaned into his mouth.

“Missed you,” he murmured.

I sighed in response and wove my hands through his hair, pulling him closer to me. There was a gasp, and we wrenched apart. Mary stood at the end of the hall, a stack of towels in her hand.

“Please forgive me, Mr Shelby,” she said quickly. She curtsied and disappeared down the hall before either of us could respond. Tommy turned back to me, already leaning down to kiss me. Before he could though, I clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Hang on,” I said. He frowned exasperated with me. “We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” His muffled voice was defensive.

“Because your wife died, Tommy! We can’t be together yet, it’s… insensitive.”

Tommy laughed. The sound was stifled against my palm, but I could definitely feel the curve of his smile.

“We won’t tell anyone. It’ll just be us and Charlie.”

I hesitated. “Remember, no secrets. When we are ready, we’ll discuss when and how. Together.”

“Together,” he promised.

I smiled shyly up at him and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I love you too.”

Something moved out of the corner of my eye. There, standing at the end of the hall, was the entire Shelby clan. Polly, Ada, Finn, Aruthur, John, Esme, their five kids, Linda and Johnny Dogs were standing and openly gaping.

“Yay!” Ada clapped her hands and grinned at me.

I groaned and let my head flop onto Tommy’s chest. Charlie took that moment to start squalling in the room behind us.

“Fuck.”


	18. Season 3 Epilogue

The maids had never seen Tommy Shelby so ruffled. He was pacing in the drawing room, Charles balanced on his hip. The child was chattering away in his father’s ear. Tommy was doing his best to pay attention, but was obviously too preoccupied with what was doing on upstairs. There was a scream and Tommy visibly flinched. His blue eyes were wide and guarded, something everyone knew meant he was ready to burst into a fit of violence at any second. Tired of seeing him suffer, one of the maids stepped forwards. He looked as if he would strike her when she offered to mind Charles. Another cry echoed through the house and he reluctantly handed her the child. He didn’t hesitate to stride off down the hall and up the stairs.

* * *

 

 **Her** :  
The pain was unbearable. My back arched off the bed, a scream tearing through my throat as her whole lower body contracted. Sweat coated me and the midwife and doctor exchanged looks over the sheet covering my knees. The grim doctor folded the sheet down again to preserve some semblance of my modesty just as the door burst open. The two medical professionals jumped at his appearance, but he only had eyes for me.

Another contraction ripped through me and I screamed, fists twisting in the sheets. My eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking out the corners. When the pain subsided, I relaxed, opening them. Tommy was still by the door, fingers tucked into his waistcoat. Seemingly relaxed, but the lines around his eyes told another story.

“Tommy,” I rasped.

Despite the protests of the doctor, he made his way over to me, kneeling by my bedside.

“It hurts,” I whimpered.

He stroked a hand through my hair. “Sit up.” I frowned, but did so, wincing at the ache in my swollen belly. He slid in carefully behind me, my back to his chest, his legs framing mine. He gently pulled my back, until I was leaning completely against him. I felt my belly tightening again and I gritted my teeth.

Tommy whispered in my ear until the contraction was over. The doctor knelt and check my progress.

“My mother helped the other women during their births,” Tommy whispered. I closed my eyes, simply leaning against him and listening to his breathing and voice. “She always said something about human contact helping with the pain.”

The doctor stepped next to the bed, twisting his hands nervously. “Mr Shelby, may I have a word with you?”

“Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of my wife.”

“Well, sir, we believe the child is stuck. There had been no progress in several hours and I am concerned about the child’s welfare. We want to perform a caesarean.”

Panic rose in me and I twist to try and look at Tommy. He wrapped his arms around me and help me firmly against his chest. “No. Pass me the telephone.”

The doctor opened his mouth to protest, but quickly shut up at a pointed cough from the midwife. With a gentle smile at me, she handed Tommy the phone. He unwrapped his arms from me to take it, and I instantly missed the contact. Kneeling by my side, she took my hand.

“My mother worked with the gypsy women on many an occasion. Their way works better than any way modern medicine and devise. Your husband loves you, and he will take care of you.” She gave my hand a quick squeeze before moving away. Behind me, Tommy placed the base next to me, wrapping his freed hand around me again. I tried to keep quiet as he asked for Polly Shelby. I lasted no more than five seconds before a scream tore through me. Moving the mouthpiece away from his face, Tommy whispered encouragements in my ear as the pain increased.

When it was finally finished, I let out an exhausted sob.

“Polly. I need you here. Now.”

He hung up without an answer.

* * *

The pain was getting worse. I felt another one coming on and a sob racked up my throat.

“I can’t.”

Tommy, having moved from his position behind me to fetch water and towels, was at my side in a second. “Don’t you fucking give up. Polly is on her way. Everything will be ok.”

There was a call downstairs and one of the maids appeared in the doorway. “Mr Shelby, your Aunt and sister have arrived.”

“Finally,” he murmured.

Polly and Ada burst into the room, laden with towels. Polly came to the side of the bed, a hand resting on your belly.

“Hey, there.” She smiled down at you. “This is a right mess?”

An incredulous laugh bubbled up. “I thought I’d finally done it.” Another sob. “My baby, Polly.”

She gave you a motherly smile. “We’ll sort it out. Tommy.”

He moved behind me again, shifting you forwards then further back on the bed, so he could rest against the headboard. He pulled me back against him, resting his head on my shoulder.

“I love you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to my neck. I smiled weakly, turning my head so I could press one against his lips.

“I love you, too.”

“Alright,” Polly interrupted. “I’m going to move the baby.”

I nodded. “Is it going to hurt?”  
Polly nodded. “Yes.” Then she pressed her fingers to my belly, feeling around. It was like pressing on an open wound. I cried out, and Tommy tightened his arms on me.

* * *

“You’re ready. Next contraction, you’re going to push.” Polly stood up, moving to the end of the bed. She knelt, folding back the sheet. Embarrassment of her seeing me like this and down there faded as I felt the familiar tightening begin. Though, this time, there was the feeling of something giving, then a pain that spread like fire.

It gave, but the feeling remained. “I can see the head,” exclaimed Polly.

I let out a laugh, which quickly turned into another cry. Tommy pulled me back as I curled into myself. The pain returned, a wildfire burning me from the inside out. Then everything stopped, and something slipped from me. Polly stood, cradling my bloody, pink baby in a towel in her arms. There was a moment of deathly silence, Tommy and I still as stone. Then, the most beautiful sound filled the room. My baby screamed it’s little lungs out.

“It’s a girl!” Polly cried.

Tears of relief ran down my cheeks and Tommy pressed a kiss to my cheek. I reached my arms out, wincing when pain shot through me.

“Careful!” Ada scolded.

Polly carefully handed me my baby, and I settled her into my arms. Tommy stroke a hand down her downy cheek, one of his beautiful, rare smiles on his lips.

“So,” Ada prompted. “What’s her name.”

“Elizabeth,” Tommy answered, not looking up.

“Elizabeth Grace Shelby,” I added.

Tommy turned his head, looking at me, and I sent a shy smile his way. Elizabeth let out a whimper, but quickly quieted again. For a moment, we were the perfect little family.


	19. Riding

**Warnings: Language**

**Word Count: 932**

**About: Anon asked: What about an imagine where Tommy is trying to teach the reader how to ride and horse suddenly jumps and rans away and the reader falls quite badly? And then Tommy being all worried and cute.**

**Edited/Beta-ed: No**

* * *

 

 “Leg loose,” Tommy reminded.

“My legs are fucking loose!” you yelled.

The ring was dry and dusty, and you swore at least half of the dirt was now clogged in your nose. Tommy was sitting on the fence, cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth, the end glowing with each exhale. He watched with careful eyes as you rode the mare around in yet another boring circle.

“Why am I bareback again? Isn’t a saddle supposed to be more secure?” You tried to readjust your position, encouraging blood flow to your numb backside. 

“It’s better to learn how to ride a horse without a saddle before putting a barrier between you.” Tommy’s voice had a tinge of weariness.

“Fucking gypsy,” you mumbled as you rode past him. You turned just in time to see the sparkle of humour in his eyes. He knew you were joking, otherwise this whole relationship would have ended a long time ago.

“Watch what you’re doing,” he reminded. 

You focussed back on the horse beneath you, the black mane flopping against the horse’s neck as it trotted forwards. Suddenly, his ears flicked forwards, neck flinging backwards. Tommy was already jumping off the fence a moment before the horse leapt into the hair. He snorted, flicking his head backwards. Instinctively, your legs wrapped around his torso, struggling to anchor yourself. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, the horses back arched at the same time your bum bounced off his back, your legs lost their grip and you flew into the air. You seemed to hover for a moment of horror, then the horse rose up to greet you. His back slammed up between your legs, knocking the wind out of you. Pain shot through you and you gasped. Then, the horse shot sideways.

For a split second, the horse that had previously been under you was on the other side of the arena. Then, the ground crashed into you. You saw someone run past you, then Tommy was kneeling next to you, cigarette gone, eyes panicked.

You raised an arm, blocking out the noon sun glaring in your eyes. Everything hurt, but your lungs were starting to catch up with your body.

“You’re ok,” Tommy said quietly, he seemed to be convincing himself more than you. His hands ran down your legs, then your arm’s checking for injuries. A crease had appeared between his brows. There was a throbbing from between your legs. It was _not_ a nice throbbing. A wild laugh bubbled up from inside you. Tommy’s eyes narrowed, the shadow cast from his cap momentarily blocking out the sun. you suddenly noticed the dusting of freckles across his nose.

He leant down, carefully supporting your head as you sat up. You groaned as it shifted the muscles in your bruised legs.

“Where is the horse?” you asked. Now that you were sitting up, you realised the mare was nowhere to be seen.

“Johnny got her.” His hand carefully threaded his fingers through your hair, gentle feeling your scalp for blood.

“What happened?”

“A rabbit ran across the ring.” He adjusted you so you leant against him.

“Do I have to get back on?”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, he reached a hand between your legs and carefully raised his palm against the apex of your thighs. Your cry of protest changed into a cry of pain.

“No,” he answered with a smile. “You don’t have to get back on.”

“Well,” you snuggled further down into his chest. “At least I can dismount. 

You felt Tommy’s smile against my cheek. “I hope that’s not how you plan to dismount every time, I feel with the amount of riding we have planned, there are other things that we may have to give up.”

You giggled, stopping abruptly when the sound sent ripples of pain through you. Tommy sighed, then carefully helped you stand. You groaned as weight was placed back onto your legs.

You looked up at Tommy. “Please?”

He rolled his eyes, then slipped a hand under your legs. He lifted, cradling you in his arms.

“Do I have to keep riding?” you asked.

The chuckle echoed through Tommy’s chest and through my shoulder. “No. if you really don’t like it, I won’t make you do it.”

“But it’d make you happy?”

“Yes.”

You let out a sigh. “Fine, when I can walk on my own, I’ll keep going.” 

“Your horse will appreciate that.”

You froze. “My what?”

“Your horse. We’ve discovered that she doesn’t like rabbits, so you’ll have to school that out of her.”

“Tommy!” you cried, slapping his chest with your hand. “You said you would take me with you! You promised I could pick one out myself.”

“She was a gift from a senator. Nice enough horse but can’t race. So, she’s yours.”

 “You didn’t buy her?”

“No.”

 You relaxed back against his chest. Tilting your head back, you studied his jaw. It was still clenched tightly.

 “Were you worried when I fell?”

 “Of course.”

 You smiled. “I love you, even if you do try to kill me.”

 “The rabbit tried to kill you.”

 “The rabbit did not try to kill me. The horse that you put me on tried to kill me.”

 “I did not force you onto that horse. You chose.”

 You laughed. “Well, I also have to thank that horse.”

 Tommy glanced down at me. “Why?”

 “Because my husband is now carrying me across the field.”

 “You don’t need to bruise yourself to get me to carry you.”

You smiled up at him. “I’ll remember that.”


	20. Bullet

**Warnings: Language, Violence**

**Word Count: 1302**

**About: Anon asked: I know you have basically covered it with your Tommy x Reader stories but could you right a story where the reader almost dies protecting Tommy and his reaction?**

**Edited/Beta-ed: No**

* * *

 

Oh, you were in _so_ much trouble. If you ever managed to get off this floor, you were certain you wouldn’t remain so for long. You coughed, the blood welling in your throat. There was another flash, followed by a muffled bang. It felt like you had been stabbed, then set on fire. A face appeared over you and it took a moment for you to realise that it was Tommy.

 

“Tommy,” you whispered. Or at least tried to, it came out sounding more like a gurgle.

 

“Fuck,” he murmured. He ripped off his jacket, balling it up and pressing it to your chest. A searing pain ripped through you and you screamed. His face, pale and wide-eyed, appeared over you. “I need you to calm down,” he begged. “I need you to slow down your heart. Can you do that? Please? For me?”

 

You nodded, despite every muscle in your body screaming at you to get the fire out.

 

Tommy glanced back down to your chest, his jaw clenching. “Goddamn it, why are you here? I told you to stay with the baby. Who’s got Charlie and Elizabeth?”

 

You blinked up at him, then carefully raised your hand to his face. Your fingertips brushed his cheekbone before falling back to the floor. Black licked at the edges of your vision moments and your eyelids suddenly became heavy. You were so tired.

 

“Don’t you fucking dare close those eyes,” Tommy commanded. He leant down, resting his forehead against yours. He looked deep into your eyes, pleading with you. You knew that he couldn’t lose another wife like this, knew that his heart would never recover. Charlie’s and Elizabeth’s face flashed before your eyes. Your son, because you considered him yours as much as Elizabeth’s, with Tommy’s eyes and Grace’s hair, and your daughter, with her mischievous smile and ringing laughter. They would grow up motherless, because Tommy couldn’t bear to love and lose for the third time.

* * *

 

 

**Tommy**

She was closing her eyes. Each blink grew longer in length and I could see her eyes losing focus on me. The blood leaked from under my jacket, still pressed tightly to her chest. She wasn’t supposed to be here. I had asked her specifically to stay away because I knew the Russians weren’t fucking around when it came to business. Yet, here she was, bleeding out on the floor, just like Grace had.

 

Someone tapped my shoulder. I reached into my holster, drew my gun and pointed it at intruder before I had even glanced away from my wife. Above me stood Jeremiah Jesus, medical bag in hand. He didn’t bother to ask me to move. he simply knelt on the other side of her and carefully removed the jacket. She screamed, a heart wrenching sob, when the half-clotted blood was pulled from her skin. The bullet wound was tiny, but the damage was extensive. I watched Jeremiah carefully, judging the small flicker of his eye as he assessed the wound.

 

“It hit a vein. As long as I get the bullet out cleanly, she won’t die from the gunshot.”

 

I heard the hesitation in his voice. “But?” I prompted.

 

Jeremiah looked me in the eye; no bullshit. “She’s lost a lot of blood, Tommy. I’ve seen men die with more blood still in their veins.”

 

“Do what you can,” I commanded. “She’ll fight.”

 

Jeremiah didn’t hesitate. As he worked, I did my best to comfort her. The blood in her throat, something Jeremiah attributed to a small nick in her oesophagus from the bullet, cleared soon after the hole was stitched up. She faded in and out, the pain too much at times. All I could think about was how pretty she had looked this morning, how much she loved the children, and how much she loved me.

 

Jeremiah worked for hours. I saw him try and yawn inconspicuously, and a tang of guilt shot through me, but I knew that he would work until he dropped, if he thought there was a chance. I heard people milled behind me, but a stiff word from Arthur and a glare from John had them scuttling away.

 

It was little after midnight before Jeremiah finally sat back on his heels, and declared her safe. She was still pale, but her breaths came easier and the blood was no longer pumping from the carefully stitched wound in her chest.

* * *

 

**You**

It had been three weeks since the ‘incident’. Three weeks of bedrest and soup, of visits from Polly and the Shelby’s. Three weeks of pregnant silences from Tommy.

 

The tipping point came when you snuck out of bed and downstairs, determines to make yourself a cup of tea. The children were with Mary in the garden, picking wildflowers and Tommy was with the horses. When the scullery maid saw you she opened her mouth to protest, under strict instructions from Tommy to not allow you out of bed for anything, but a look from you had her scampering off. You managed to fill the kettle, boil the water, even get a cup down from the cupboard, before Tommy caught you. You hadn’t even heard him come in when the cup in your hands was wrenched away.

 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

 

You jumped in fright, then gasped as it pulled at your wound. “Fuck, Tommy! I just wanted a cup of tea.”

 

“Ring the bell on the nightstand then. One of the maids will get it for you. You’re not supposed to be out of bed.”

 

“I am not ringing that bell like the fucking Queen of Sheba. I can get my own tea,” you snapped. Something wet dripped down your chest and you glanced down. Cursing, you pressed a hand to the red spot spreading on your nightgown. In an instant, Tommy had pushed you backwards into a chair and was ripping the front of your nightgown apart.

 

“Tommy!” you cursed, covering your breasts with your hands. He ignored you, and pressed a scrap of material from his pocket to the wound.

 

“God damn it,” Tommy muttered, inspecting the wound. The look, the annoying one that had been on his face since you were shot, was back.

 

“Tommy,” you said quietly. He didn’t look at you, but the whiteness around his knuckles faded slightly.

 

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

 

You swallowed thickly and bit back a response.

 

“I told you not to come,” he continued. “I told you to stay at home with the children. Then I find out my wife is bleeding out on the floor.”

 

“This is the wife that used to accompany you to the racetracks and helped you in whatever skirmish you had picked. Suddenly, now that I’m your wife, I more breakable? Tommy, look at me.” You pressed a finger to his chin, tilting his head upright. “What’s going on in your head. You haven’t talked to me since-“

 

Tommy’s eyes flicked back down to the rag pressed to my chest. “She had my baby.” he swallowed. “I can’t lose you like that, not after Grace.”

 

Your bruised heart softened. “I’m not sorry that I came. I am sorry that I hurt you. I need you to promise that if something like this happens again, that you’ll tell me what is going on. Please. Our babies cannot grow up without a parent.”

 

“If you promise not to run headlong into danger.”

 

“Agreed,” you smiled down at him. “Now, I believe you owe me three weeks of kisses.”

 

Tommy narrowed his eyes at you. “I think you owe me a lot more.”

 

He leant up, carefully pressing his lips to yours. His wedding ring was cold against you neck where he held you.

 

There was a clatter, and a scream.

 

“Oh! Mr Shelby,” cried Mary. “I do apologise.”

 

I sighed.


	21. Flower On The Desk (OC X Alfie)

**Warnings: Language**

**Word Count: 1508**

**About: thinkingsofamadwoman asked: you should do an Alfie Solomons imagine where its kinda like snippets of how they got together. Before the war, during the war, and after the war. #allthefluff on top pls.**


	22. Married

**Warnings: Birth, Adultery, Kissing**

**Word Count: 490**

**About: Anon: Hello I'd like to request a peaky blinders imagine in which Thomas is in love with a married woman with a child ( he already has Charlie ), so he is trying to get to know her better and a few months later they are together and she is divorced ? ❤ Have a lovely day**


	23. Since Birth (OC X Finn)

**Warnings: Violence, Language**

**Word Count: 865**

**About: Anon: Hi. Can I please request a Finn Shelby imagine in which the reader is his best friend since birth and also his girlfriend and the Shelbys love her. The reader also works for the Shelbys so when she goes out of town for a job with John or Tommy , Finn gets jealous and is scared. I'd love to read something like that . However if you do it or if you don't : have a nice day ⭐**

**Edited/Beta-ed: No**

* * *

 

The ending is a bit weird, I sort of lost my train of thought. I hope you enjoy it! xoxo

 

Finn and I laughed, rolling up another wad of paper. We waited for the right moment, the bounced them off the back of Arthur’s head. Arthur roared and turned to face us, cheeks turning red. I winked at him before bolting out of the front door.

* * *

 

It was this memory Finn remembered as she packed her things into a case. They had grown, in multiple ways, since that brief moment in their childhood. The little girl he had grown up was working her way up through the Blinder’s ranks. Her girlish-prettiness had morphed in full blown beauty. And Finn knew that people noticed.

 

Especially John. Finn’s older brother always had an eye on her. Always. This ticked Finn off, but the real icing was the way his brother would lean back causally in his chair and eye her like a piece of high-cut steak.

 

Fingers snapping in front of his face brought Finn back to the present.

 

“Lost you for a moment, Fi.” She gave him a smile before holding up too dresses. “Which one?”

 

Finn shrugged. “Dunno.”

 

She sighed. “Finn, seriously. It’s just a business trip. Nobody knows the books like I do, except maybe Tommy.”

 

Was it his imagination, or did her eyes soften slightly when she said Tommy’s name?

 

“I know,” he snapped.

 

“Then why are you acting like an ass!”

 

Finn stared at her for moment, unable to voice his concerns. Instead, true to the Shelby way, he shut his mouth, stood, and stormed from the room.

* * *

 

She knew it was dangerous, but she didn’t know that the fucking _Mafia_ were involved. Bullet’s sprayed above her and she cowered down behind the overturned table. Tommy had shoved her there with a strict word to stay put.

 

There was another round of gunfire, quickly followed by a single shot. Then another. Return fire. Then it seemed as though every Londoner with a gun was firing it in this room. The sound was deafening. Then, slowly, the sound petered off. There was a thud and a clatter as a body dropped, followed by his weapon.

 

After what felt like a century, the gunfire ceased. She froze as footsteps made their way towards the table where she was hiding. Glancing around frantically, she spotted a broken chair leg. She scrambled over and grabbed it, holding it close to her chest. If we was going to die, she was going down fighting. A hand appeared on the edge of the table and she slammed the leg down on the fingers with all her strength.

 

“Fuck!” Tommy yelled. He wrenched his hand away, face contorted in pain.

 

“Sorry!” she cried. “Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t know it was you!”

 

He frowned, stuck his injured hand in his pocket and stalked off towards the front doors. When she didn’t move out from behind the table, he gestured to the door.

 

“I’m happy to leave you here to deal with the police when they arrive.”

 

She stood on shaky legs, the adrenaline still racing through her system. She stumbled after Tommy and out into the sun.

* * *

 

Finn had a bad feeling. From the moment the Bentley rumbled away, his gut had a hole in it. He told himself it was purely out of fear for her safety. It was partly true; he knew that it was no longer safe to be associated with the Shelby’s. However, he didn’t like how quickly she agreed to go with Tommy to London, or the fact that she spent so much time picking her clothes.

 

He knew that he was no match for his brother. His brother was powerful and dangerous and alluring to woman. Finn was never able to break out of his brother’s hold long enough to prove himself. She was strong, like his brother. She had passed ever4y test thrown at her and, as a result, quickly worked through the ranks of the Blinders. She knew the money side of the business better than everyone, except perhaps Tommy.

 

He threw the ball against the wall, leaving yet another black mark on the white paint. It was his small rebellion. Downstairs, Polly yelled something about the noise, and Finn sighed.

* * *

 

The car rumbled to a stop outside the Shelby mansion. Without a word, Tommy opened his door and strode around to open hers. He offered his hand and she gratefully took it, sliding out delicately.

 

“Finn will be glad your home,” he said, lighting a cigarette. He offered her one, which she took gratefully.

 

“He’s probably bored out of his mind,” she mumbled around the cigarette.

 

Tommy leant in so she could light her cigarette off the glowing end of his.

 

He shook his head, a small smile curling his lips. “No, I don’t think he’s bored.”

 

“No,” she sighed, his meaning going straight over her head. “He’s been seeing that girl, Isabelle, for a while. I guess she kept him entertained.”

 

Tommy shook his head again. “I think he was more worried about what _we’d_ get up to.”

 

She froze, then burst out laughing, coughing as she inhaled an unexpected lungful of smoke. “I beg your pardon?”

 

Tommy simply sent her a sly smirk, then sauntered off into the house.


	24. Rivals

**Warnings: None really**

**Word Count: 1483**

**About: Anon: Hi!! i have a peaky blinders request -- Tommy meets and falls in love with a sweet, down to earth book keeper who he doesn't realize is the daughter of a brutal rival gang leader. But her family arranges her to marry the son of another gang (who she despises) and jealousy, angst and fluff ensue!**

**Edited/Beta-ed: No**

* * *

 

She was something else entirely. Tommy watched as she and Lizzy giggled together. Her eyes briefly met his before darting back to Lizzy. His lip curled as she self-consciously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. A pink tinge had risen on her neck, and Tommy watched as it darkened under his gaze.

 

He wasn’t sure what fascinated him so. She was a small, meek thing, not unlike a small mouse hiding in the corner. However, this mouse carried a revolver in her purse and had already proved she could manage herself.

 

Someone coughed, drawing Tommy’s attention back to the book’s in front of him. her careful handwriting laid out the winning’s and losses of the month, with notes about debts owing and owed. She was good at what she did, quick of hand and in counting. She hadn’t made a mistake yet and she always had the books ready when they were required.

 

Time passed quickly that day. The races were the next day so bets were flooding in, mostly thanks to the public powder trick Tommy had done yesterday. Arthur was still fuming about it, but Tommy was proving himself with the influx of money.

* * *

 

Tommy stalked through Watery Lane, children and drunks skittering out of his way. Anyone could see the Prince of Birmingham was in a bad mood, and the razor’s flashing in the brim of his hat were warning enough.

 

The subject of his wrath better watch herself; a storming was coming.

* * *

 

She woke the minute her head slipped out of her hand. In the corner, Tommy watched as she blinked sleepily, her hands smoothing her hair. It glowed gold and red in this light, the small fly-aways shining.  

 

“I might retire, Mr Shelby,” she said, still seated. “If that suits you?”

 

He waved his hand, eyes focussed on the book in front of him. “Of course. Good night.”

 

She rose from her desk, tidying the stack of ledgers. She quickly and silently gathered her coat and hat from the stand behind her, and tucked her chair under her desk.

 

“I’ll be in first thing,” she vowed to him. “To finish these.”

 

He leant back in his chair, studying her silently. She was wearing another one of her brightly coloured dresses, perhaps the only colour in the shop. The flush he loved on her rose again, colouring her pale cheeks. She held his gaze for a moment, then her eyes darted away.

 

He stood, straightening his jacket. “I’ll walk you home. The Lindon’s are out for Blinder’s at the moment.” He caught her flinch, and frowned. “Is something the matter?”

 

She shook her head, her skin losing its flush. “They’re in Birmingham?”

 

“Yes, is that an issue?” He paused, gauging her reaction.

 

She shook her head vigorously. “No, Mr Shelby.”

 

He tiled his head, the motion reminding her of a lion she had once seen in a cage at the zoo; silently threatening. “I see.”

 

She shifted her grip on the hat in her hand. “I will make it home on my own. Thank you for your offer, Mr Shelby.” She inclined her head, then walked quickly from the room. Tommy watched her until she disappeared from his sight, then opened the window behind him. The two Blinder’s waiting there stamped out their cigarettes and approached the window.

 

“Follow her,” Tommy said. The men nodded then slipped silently from the alley.

* * *

 

She knew she was being followed.

 

She knew it was Tommy.

 

How he knew her secret, she didn’t know.

 

She did know, however, _exactly_ why the Lindon’s were in town.

* * *

 

The next morning, she briefly considered taking the next train to London and never returning. She quickly dismissed the idea, already knowing she couldn’t outrun it forever. So, she put on her Sunday best, jammed her hat determinedly on her head and stalked out her door like she owned the world. She made it two blocks before a car pulled up beside her. She glanced over her shoulder, one hand in her purse, wrapped around the revolvers handle. A breath of relief escaped her when she recognised the Shelby car with Tommy behind the wheel. However, the look on his face soon had her regretting her decision not to leg it.

 

“Get in,” he said.

 

She hesitated, then climbed in beside him. “Thank-“

 

“You have two Lindon’s on your tail.”

 

She resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder. “Are you going to deliver me to them?”

 

He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned onto the road that took them out of the city.

 

A lump rose in her throat and she sunk into her seat.

* * *

 

Tommy slammed the door behind him, and she flinched. He waited on his side of the car, gazing out across the field to the two horses grazing there. She slide across the seat, briefly debated stealing the car, then slid out. She shut the door then leant against it.

 

“How much-”she begun

 

“You father has a bounty on you head,” he said, lighting a cigarette. “100 pounds. A pretty price.”

 

She swallowed thickly. “I guess he’ll be here any minute to pick me up.”

 

He nodded and she forced down a whimper.

 

“Do you know,” she said through gritted teeth, “what he’s going to do with me?”

 

Tommy flicked ash from the end of his cigarette. “No.”

 

“He’s selling me to the Lee family. I’m to marry one of the boys there. A rapist. He’s already made it clear that I’m there to carry on the line. Is your 100 pounds worth it?”  


Tommy flicked away his stub, then turned to face her. Though his expression was carefully guarded, his eyes held the flicker of betrayal.

 

“You lied to us. If I had known you were a Lindon-“

 

“What?” she snapped. “You would’ve told him earlier? Maybe held me hostage and bargained with me?”

 

He took a step forward, his breath warming her face. She was suddenly away of the smell of horses and smoke on him. She felt her cheek’s warm. Tommy’s eye darted downwards, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

 

“Maybe,” he said quietly. He raised a hand to stroke her still pink cheek. “Or, maybe I would have claimed you sooner.”

 

Her breath stilled in her chest. “Claimed me?”

 

“Mmm,” he hummed. “As mine.”

 

He leant in, pressing his forehead against hers. “You still lied to me.”

 

“I had no choice,” she whispered.

 

His lips were inches away from her, the warmth from his breath brushing her lips. She was suddenly very away of how small she was compared to him. The car, unyielding behind her, kept her trapped against his body. Moment before his lips touched hers, the sound of a engine drew them apart. They glanced down the road to see the Lindon car rattling towards them. Behind the wheel, her brother was thin lipped and grim. Her father beside him look slightly more gleeful, his eyes already glinting with the payment he would receive from the Lee’s upon her marriage.

 

Tommy’s calloused hand slid into hers. “Get in the car,” he whispered in her ear. “And hand me my hat.”

 

She did as she was told, sliding into the driver’s seat and reaching behind her for the flat cap. When she handed it to him, Tommy slipped the hat onto his head, and reached for his gun in his shoulder holster. He clicked open the chamber to check it was loaded, cocked it, then slid it back into its holster.

 

“Mr Lindon,” he called, the moment her father stepped out of the car. “I’m afraid you won’t be leaving with your daughter today.”

 

Her father snarled. “She’s mine, Shelby, and you’ll hand her over.”

 

“No,” Tommy said firmly. “She isn’t yours.”

 

“What,” Mr Lindon laughed. “You’ll marry her?”

 

“Maybe,” Tommy said. “But she doesn’t want to marry into the Lee’s, and I don’t blame her.”

 

“You gypsy bastard!” Lindon yelled. Her brother slid from the driver’s seat, reaching into his jacket.

 

“No,” Tommy said, drawing his own weapon. “Don’t do that.”

 

Her brother’s eyes darted to her, then he carefully slid away his weapon. “Come on, Dad,” he called. “Let’s go.”

 

“Not without your sister.”

 

“Leave her,” he said. His eyes darted past Tommy again. “She’s a Blinder now.”

 

She nodded at him and he gave her a small smile.

 

“Go,” he told Tommy. “Take her.”

 

Tommy held his gaze for a moment, a rare gesture of respect, before gesturing for her to slide into the passenger seat. He took his place behind the wheel and started the engine.

 

Outside, her father reached for his weapon, but thought differently. He retracted his hand, and stood aside.

 

He swore, on his wife’s grave, no gypsy, Blinder bastard would have his daughter. He would have her back, and she would marry the Lee boy, even if he had to kill every Shelby to do it.


End file.
